Sweet Insanity
by Amazon Wolf
Summary: After the accidental death of a policeman, his widow is drawn into a world where the mind plays tricks and one psychopath wishes to harness that. Takes place after Batman Begins.
1. Chapter 1

This chapter doesn't have much action, it's only an intro. Adriana De Soto is a character of mine, as are the various people in her family. Other than that, all Batman related things are (c) DC.

This is based after the movie, so you will be seeing Bruce, Alfred, Doctor Crane, and others in future chapters. Enjoy!

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* * *

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_Ring! … Ring! … Ring_

The telephone rang wildly on the hook, startling the couple from their peaceful slumber.

_Ring! … Ring! …Ring_

"Honey…" The woman mumbled, drawing her plush down pillow over her head. She lightly brushed her husband's shoulder and mumbled for him to answer the phone.

_Ring!_

"Adriana…please," he groaned, "you're closer to it." She didn't move. The man waited a minute, letting the phone ring more. His sleepy eyes turned to the luminous digital clock by his bedside. '_Two-thirty…who in their right mind calls at two-thirty in the morning?_ ' The man flung the warms sheets over him and turned his body, sitting on the edge of the bed. He rose groggily, staggering out of the cozy comforts of his bed and across the chilled wooden floors beneath him.

"Don't get up, hon. _I'll_ get it." Adriana, his wife, smiled beneath her pillow and lifted the temporary sound barrier from her head.

The man fumbled for the phone, his fingers still asleep while his mind struggled to wake them up. He finally grasped the receiver and brought the phone to his ear. "H'lo?"

Adriana opened an eye, looking over at her husband. She could barely hear the garbled words on the other line, but she could still sense a bit of urgency in the person's tone. The person was speaking loudly, obviously somewhere noisy. Adriana propped herself up on her elbow, resting her head on her palm. "Carlos?" She watched him as he curled his fingers around his chin, something he always did when he was deep in thought. He didn't reply, but cast a quick glance over at his wife.

Adriana frowned at this look, creasing her delicate features, and sat up slowly. "Carlos, who is it?" she murmured softly.

"Are you sure this is urgent, commissioner?" Carlos ignored Adriana, pacing a small expanse of the area rug in front of their bed. He let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. "A-Alright…I'll be there in a few minutes." Carlos slowly rested the phone in the cradle and stood very still. He was hesitating. Before Adriana could once again ask him what was wrong, he started towards the closet and flipped on the light, making her wince.

"Gordon needs me downtown." Carlos spoke in a stern tone, the tone he took whenever there was work to be done.

"The commissioner? Why does he need you?"

Carlos stepped out of the closet seconds later, adjusting his dark navy uniform and the black leather belt around his waist. The light behind him cast his handsome face in dark, eerie shadows. Even with a shrouded face, Adriana could see traces of remorse and worry. She rose from the bed, pulling her snug white robe over her shoulders, and made her way over to his side. He was busy fixing his gun holster, placing the pistol carefully in it.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" She cooed, holding his shoulder gently.

Carlos furrowed his brow and picked up his hat resting on a chair back, along with his badge. "There's a hostage situation. Gordon needs all the help he can get. I just wish I didn't have to go. Hostage situations…there's always risks. Especially for the hostage."

"Carlos, if you're worried, please stay— " Adriana started, but he cut her off with a kiss.

"Don't worry. We deal with these things all the time. Give us good guys a few hours. Who knows," He added with a coy grin, starting towards the bedroom door and out the hall, "maybe you'll see my pretty mug on the morning news."

Adriana followed him, tugging on his elbow desperately.

"Carlos, this is your day off. Sweetheart, please don't."

"I know you hate my job. But you worry too much, hon." Carlos ran his thumb down her cheek, brushing a long strand of curled chocolate hair from her face. "I love you, and I'll see you later."

He wrenched open the door and disappeared towards the elevator, his footsteps echoing in the empty halls, jingling along with his keys.

Adriana sighed, rubbing her eyes as a sudden fatigue swept over her. Her husband was a Gotham City policeman. Their work was never done. She was just sick of worrying about him each time he left the house.

The young woman flipped on the lamp, illuminating the vast loft in dim light, sleepy light. She couldn't rest. Not without knowing where her husband was and how he was doing. She peered over at a large silver clock hanging nearby.

_**2:43 A.M.**_

Adriana lowered herself into a cozy chair, holding the day old newspaper in her hands, and blew a long breath out her nose. "Another long wait for the wife of Gotham's finest."

* * *

"Alright. Yes, yes I know…Dinner. And…yes, I'm making dessert." Adriana bustled about the kitchen, a bowl in one hand, and a whisk in the other. "No, I'm not making it now. Keith, it's only…nine-thirty." She held the phone between her ear and shoulder, something she had picked up after working as a secretary. She had since dropped that job and was currently in the market for something a little more exciting. She joked with Carlos about taking a job as a skydiver, even though she was terrified of heights.

Adriana shifted the phone to the other ear and began pouring the creamy batter from the bowl into a pan sizzling with melted butter. "Keith, I'm not an airhead like my sister. I know six o'clock means six o'clock. I know it's a surprise party." She drawled, plopping a strawberry in her mouth. "Don't worry." She laughed through a mouthful of fruit. "It's Cassie's birthday, I don't blow off things like that." Adriana leaned against the counter rolling her eyes as the person on the other line continued to warn her about not missing the party. "I swear, if you weren't my brother-in-law, I'd beat you for being so annoying." Adriana cast a look over to a photograph nearby. She and Carlos stood beside a taller, thinner brunette and strawberry-blonde man. She smirked and returned her attention to the caller. "Alright…alright, love you too. Tell Cassie I'm going to be coming to her surprise party. …no, I'm kidding. Yes. Bye."

The young woman put the cordless phone on the kitchen counter and stared at it, laughing to herself. She couldn't wait. Her sister's 27th birthday was today, and her brother-in-law Keith had begged her to help with the organization. She agreed, always ready to assist.

It was a little after nine, and she was starving. She decided that pancakes were the perfect remedy. Plus, Carlos loved pancakes, so it would be a pleasant surprise for him when he came home. She prodded the sizzling pancake batter with a spatula, flipping it over, then turned her attention to the clock. Time seemed to drag on whenever her husband was on duty.

She decided to turn on the television for a little bit of news. She hadn't checked on the hostage situation yet, and Carlos's words still rang in her head. Maybe his pretty mug _would_ be on television. Just as she flipped over to the news station, a loud pounding came from the door.

Adriana's eyes lit up, a smile plastered across her smooth, milky face. "Coming! I'm coming!" The young lady practically skipped with glee, throwing open the front door ready to receive her husband in an embrace.

But her smile soon wilted into a frown, her face filling with confusion. "Commissioner Gordon. Hi. Uh…Sorry, I was expecting Carlos." She looked a little more puzzled and frowned. "Shouldn't you be at that hostage thing? Or is it all over?"

Commissioner James Gordon stood outside in the hall, his creased brown hat clutched against him. He had his other hand stuffed in his pocket, where he seemed to be fidgeting with something. Gordon nodded to the officer beside him and then glanced back at the woman.

"Mrs. De Soto, I need to speak with you."

"My, you're so formal. James, it's me, remember?" Adriana smiled and waved to the living room. "Care to sit?"

Gordon's eyes left hers for a moment. He was looking past her. Adriana's forehead creased with puzzlement and she turned around. The television was low, but a photo of her husband was frozen on the screen. Adriana frowned, whipping back around to face the commissioner. She stood awkwardly, her mouth slightly open. "Sir…what…what do you have to talk to me about?"

* * *

It was raining. Cold, dark clouds hung in the air like gray phantoms, surveying the sea of black below. Freezing drops poured around the crowd, although most held dark umbrellas over their heads to protect themselves from their icy sting. Every head hung low, soft sobs and sniffles could be heard every so often. The doleful bagpipes echoed over the empty cemetery like a howling wind, adding to the chill in the air. Snare drums rolled out their marching beat, slow and thunderous all at the same time.

Adriana couldn't feel anything now as she watched with vacant eyes as the officers carrying the sleek black casket over the pit in the ground. She hadn't noticed that her umbrella wasn't covering her head at all until she felt a warm hand grab hers and lift it back into place. She looked up at Cassie, her sister, and slowly turned her eyes forward. The commissioner sat opposite her, his eyes cast to the muddy grass beneath his feet. Various officers from the police department were nearby, most of them together in their own groups, while family and friends stood behind Adriana.

The young widow took a breath. The only thing she could feel was the stinging pain ripping through her heart. Commissioner Gordon had come to her home yesterday…just yesterday…it felt like eternity.

She was expecting horrible news when she saw her husband's face on television. It was all too much of a coincidence. She didn't hear the words from his mouth, but watched his lips as the formed the syllables.

'_He's been shot. I'm so sorry…he's gone._ '

She blinked at the memory, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. He said things were going fine…Gordon says the hostage taker started firing at the officers, but after watching news cast after news cast, a different story came to light. The man didn't fire his weapon at the officers, but was struggling to shoot at that…that _hero_. The Dark Knight, as his fans called him. Adriana called him a winged rat…a menace. If he hadn't arrived…if he had just kept out of the way…

"Fire!"

_**BANGBANG!BANGBANG**_

Shots rang out, startling the woman from her thoughts. She visibly jumped, her heart racing wildly. More tears streamed down her face, mingling with the cold rain. She bit her quivering lip, shuddering as the officers fired into the air again. Her sister was there, ready to hold her. Adriana shook like a frightened child. In her hands, she held the flag that covered her husband's casket, folded into a neat triangle, along with his police badge. She ran her fingers over the rough words spelling out _Gotham City Police Department_.

Adriana looked up at Gordon again, and locked eyes with him. She felt a boiling rage filling her pallid frame and pursed her lips. It was all she could do to keep herself from screaming at him. If he had just let Carlos stay home —if he had just kept that wretched Bat away— she wouldn't have to sit here and stare at a wooden box now containing her husband's body.

The thought swam in her head as she watched the mourners slowly walked down the path, towards their cars. She was being held by the only thing she had in this world. Her family.

Childhood sweethearts...married only a year and four months. Now she was a widow, having to live in a place where heroes like Carlos are rare, and murderers...well, they're just worshipped.


	2. Chapter 2

Days had passed lethargically, painfully. Each day felt like a week, each week like a day.

Adriana smoothed her black dress as it whipped about her shins in the midmorning breeze. The white flower in her hair kept its place, held up neatly with a bobby pin. The young woman's shoes clicked with a timely rhythm on the sidewalk. She took the same path every day, holding a large bouquet of white roses. People didn't bother giving her a second glance. After the first few days, many spoke of her reverently. Hushed whispers commenced as she breezed by the people of Gotham.

"Poor dear. She's the wife of that man who was shot last week."

"The policeman?"

"She looks pale."

"Doesn't she eat anymore?"

She ignored their woes and worries and continued, pressing on with a determined if not grieving look in her eyes. Ever so often, she was reminded of her wedding day…walking down the lonely road ahead, a bouquet in her hands filled with white flowers, the steady gait, waltzing, floating towards the end of the road where there waited someone she loved…someone she adored.

Even with these dismal thoughts, Adriana hadn't been able to shed any more tears. She had cried enough the day Carlos was taken. She saw crying as a waste…but she wanted to do it so badly. She just couldn't anymore.

Adriana engulfed herself in her depressive state. The large loft she lived in was no longer the vibrant, colorful home it used to be; it was redecorated with dark colors, black and gray furniture, dark curtains and fabrics on the wall. The things she truly loved in the house were her white lilies dotting the room with a ghostly luminescence. She kept to herself, shutting out the outside world. The only link she had was the occasional phone call to her sister, along with television and newspapers. Other than that, she rarely appeared in public except on her daily walk to the cemetery.

Adriana had grown thinner, paler, a mere shadow of the strong-willed woman she used to be. She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat; she closed her bedroom door every night and sat in the darkness, letting it wash over her like a cool wave. Shadows were the only company she ever had anymore.

Adriana paused at the gate of the cemetery, various headstones dotting the hillsides like stony gray flowers. She looked around, watching to see if someone were following her, before drawing open the ornate black-iron gate and disappearing into the morbid fields of the dead.

* * *

"Large coffee, please. Decaf." A lanky young man murmured, rummaging through his pockets for his wallet. His frameless glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as he looked down, much to his annoyance. 

"That'll be $4.50, please."

The man slipped some dollar bills and two quarters onto the counter. "Here." He looked around casually at the cozy little café. It was quaint, not something he particularly enjoyed, but it was the last place he could stay without suspicion.

"And, like, what's your name?"

The man looked up at the smiling blonde behind the counter. "Excuse me?"

The teen beauty giggled and held up the cup. "Um, I, like, need your name."

The man grinned faintly, casting an eerily handsome look over his face. "I haven't seen you around here before…and I've been coming here for a few weeks." The girl smiled, biting her lower lip.

"I'm, like, new. Uh…so…like, your name?" She squeaked.

The man leaned on his elbows, his smile flickering. "Jonathan," he purred, causing the girl to blush.

After holding down his lunch, Jonathan Crane took a seat by the window and wrenched open the local paper. He didn't want to look at the girl behind the counter, nor did he want any attention from her.

'_Pathetic, bubbling, air-headed Barbie wannabe. I'm surprised she even has the brains to make a latte and breathe at the same time._' Jonathan paused, chuckling to himself. '_Interesting subject…I could test the effects of the gas on her…puh, she's probably too dense for anything to work. It would never yield any promising results. Maybe shock therapy—_'

Jonathan hissed, tearing from his thoughts as a sudden pain seared across his face. He reached up and touched the faint scar on his cheek. It was getting better, but the pain still flared up every so often. His fingers traced the jagged mark nearly all the way to his ear. He gave a growl and returned his attention to the paper, but his mind was once again wandering. '_Dawes didn't have to taser my face. I mean…the least she could have done was shoot the horse, not me._' Crane's memories of the night he was scarred were vivid. After a while of riding that beast around with practically no feeling in his face, Jonathan was able to hide out until things cooled down. He was proclaimed dead after the grand escape from Arkham, since the authorities weren't willing to spend the money to hunt down a quack…they needed that money for fancy balls and parties. Gotham was notorious for being so cheap and so lavish all at the same time. Crane wished the experiments on the people of the city would have been fulfilled…he would have loved to see the outcome.

Doctor Crane had become a staple guest at the café, thrilled that no one ever recognized him. Not that anyone would. No one ever paid attention to this scrawny man before, but he was used to it. The Scarecrow, as he lovingly called the other side of his already corrupt mind, wasn't the sweetest side to show a woman, but he got his point across. Crane was a twisted individual, his mind always racing with wild ideas and sickening hypotheses to his cruel and unusual experiments.

"Jonathan?"

Crane looked up at the sound of his name and sauntered up to the girl at the counter. He looked at her nametag, reached for his coffee, and gave a quick nod. "Thank you very much, Darcee."

He went back to his seat as the girl went into a coma behind him. Crane pulled the lid off the cardboard cup and blew away the steam rising and swirling over the coffee.

"Is that her? Again?"

"Third time I saw her this week. Always wears that black dress."

"And the flower. Always has a flower."

Crane looked over his glasses, pushing them up on his nose, and listened to the conversation between two elderly women going on at the table in front of him. Their voices were low, but he could immediately tell who they were talking about. He spotted an attractive girl across the street, striding down the sidewalk, cradling herself in her arms. She kept her head low, never once looked up.

Jonathan's eyebrows knitted together in thought. He recalled watching the girl walk back and forth, now that he thought about it. He never knew where to, but she always passed at the same time. Although, now that he thought about it, she must have stayed back longer before passing the café on her way home. He looked up at the clock. _10:33..._ Yes, she must have stayed well over an hour longer.

Crane's head swarmed with possibilities. Perhaps she was visiting a friend, perhaps a lover, perhaps she was in a flower delivery service. Jonathan didn't quite care. He blew over his coffee once more and read over the newspaper in his hand with disdain. "Looks like the Bat-Man got a little article in the paper. Stopping another robbery, saving a little old lady, bla-bla-bla…"

"It's a pity about her husband. She was only married a few months."

"No, she was married more than that. A year or something wasn't it? My daughter, she used to work with her. Says she got married last year."

"Still, I'm amazed she does this every day. When my Harold died, I had no chances to visit him. I had to go whenever I could. She goes there every day, day in and day out."

"You think she's sick?"

"...Well I don't want to judge."

Jonathan squinted. He was no longer reading the paper. He was intently listening to the conversation. His cold blue eyes drifted towards the window where the receding black figure disappeared from view, her long brown hair fluttering around her shoulders. He raised an eyebrow, his curiosity peaked.

'_Dead husband…daily, dedicated march…intriguing. They may not want to judge the young lady…but I believe I have a sudden opening in my schedule…_'


	3. Chapter 3

_Day 23_

_Subject B showing greater signs of psychosis than previously believed. Seen talking to self on certain occasions, as well as stopping suddenly on the sidewalk and staring at particularly nothingbefore starting her gait again. _

_Several circumstances lead me to believe Subject B is suffering from hallucinations, as well as paranoia._

Doctor Crane tapped his pen anxiously on the table, sipping his coffee as he stared at his notes. He had forgotten his notepad when on his way here, so he was stuck with a napkin to scribble his thoughts on.

Several weeks had passed by, and Crane had a new "experiment" already. His attentions were drawn to the daily routine of the mysterious "Lady in Black", or Subject B as he chose to call her. He watched her with increasing interest as each day; she seemed to deteriorate more and more. She was deathly pale, her dress was tattered and shredded at the hem, and she seemed to be extremely aware of her surroundings. Several times, she had almost collapsed right there on the spot. But she kept trudging on.

Jonathan Crane found it fascinating. But he always wondered where this girl wandered off to. Some days she stayed for only a few minutes. Other days, she stayed for hours on end. Today, as rain splattered on the streets and windows, Jonathan watched and waited for his little lab rat to scamper by. He looked over at the clock and raised an eyebrow. '_Odd…twenty minutes late. Perhaps she is looking for an umbrella or something._'

As if on cue, Crane spotted the teetering phantom lady across the street. Jonathan picked up his pen, a grim smile ghosting his features.

_20 min. off schedule. Subject B seems to be walking at a strange pace. No real rhythm to her movements. Slow, fast, tottering…much like a small child. Difficult to see face, but seems to be talking once more to self. _

Crane chewed on the pen cap, a habit he had started in highschool, stopping his analysis of the woman when suddenly the umbrella she was holding fell to the ground. She blinked, not bothering to pick it up, but instead stood frozen on the spot. Her eyes were cast straight ahead until the realization of rain showering on her face woke her from her daze. She fell to her hands and knees, her lovely dress now sopping in dirty street water, and grasped for the umbrella with her delicate, slender white fingers. Her curly brown hair hung limply around her head, plastered to her face as she slowly rose and held the umbrella over her head once again. Crane held his pen over the napkin, hesitating to write and expecting the girl to continue, but watched with fascination as the girl stood there. Slowly, her eyes drifted over to his direction, locking on the spot where he sat inside the café. Jonathan frowned, his mouth slightly open. He was positive that the rain could hide him, it was pouring out there. But there she stood, watching him as though he were standing right in front of her. And, just as suddenly as she stopped to look at him, the girl turned without incident and continued down the street.

Jonathan's mind turned as he picked up his pen, excitement growing within his stomach.

_Subject B shows amazingly heightened sense of awareness…perhaps able to sense more than typical five senses. Exceptional subject for testing._

Crane picked up his coffee, stuffing the napkin in his pocket, and headed out the door.

* * *

Adriana lumbered down the street, her feet dragging awkwardly in the rain. Something felt so strange, but she couldn't place her finger on it. She blinked groggily and stopped before the iron gate. Everything was shrouded in a hazy mist, the deluge of water drumming on the headstones drowning out any sort of sound.

She looked around behind her once again and slowly opened the gate. It seemed so much heavier than she remembered, but it was probably her imagination. She started down the muddy cemetery road, her shoes sinking deep into the soggy earth.

"I knew I shouldn't have worn heels. This always happens." She headed up an incline and spotted the smooth black marble headstone jutting up from the ground. Every day she came to replace the white roses she had left the previous day, even if they were still healthy. She didn't know why she had to, but she felt committed to it.

Adriana stopped in front of the grave and ran her fingers over the top of the stone, slick with rain. This place was the last place she could hold her sanity. Her home was empty, cold, and dark. Her life was the same. Only here did she ever feel safety.

But now…now she felt the strange sensation she felt back in the street. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end and soft footsteps stopping suddenly nearby.

"He must be pretty important."

Adriana craned her neck, staring over her shoulder. The tall, thin young man standing behind her had his hands stuffed casually in his pockets, eyeing the surroundings. He was drenched in the rain; His dark hair stuck to his forehead, rivulets of water snaking down his face. He stared at her with curiously cold eyes and a mysterious, mischievous grin worthy of The Mona Lisa.

Adriana blinked, holding the roses closer. "Excuse me?"

"Important. That guy you're visiting." The man peered down at the stone and smiled. "Carlos. Who is he? Dad, Grandad—"

"Husband." Adriana replied shortly. "Excuse me, sir…but do I even know you?"

The man plucked at his coat and shrugged. "Probably not. How did he die?"

Adriana was reluctant. This man, she didn't even know his name, seemed so interested in her life. She didn't like prying eyes. She didn't like him. But if she didn't say anything, she felt like she would explode.

"He was shot. Hostage situation."

"I heard about that. The guy went nuts and shot at the policemen."

Adriana took a step towards him, struggling to quiet the tight quiver hitched in her voice. "He went nuts and shot at that rat with wings…Batman. The coward moved and my husband…" She trailed off and shook her head.

The man's smile grew slightly. "You're angry. Tense." He grabbed her wrist, much to her surprise. Adriana yelped and reached out to scratch him when she stopped in mid-air. He had uncurled her fist that held the roses for her husband and was holding it for her to see. Deep puncture wounds dotted her palm, blood slowly trickling forth. The man inspected them for a moment, then dug in his pockets and handed her a clean handkerchief.

"You should be more careful and make sure the florist gets rid of those thorns."

Adriana clutched the handkerchief in the injured hand and murmured a soft apology and thank you. She turned her back to the man, quickly arranging the flowers and placing them in front of the grave while removing the ones from yesterday.

"Hurts, doesn't it?"

"I'm sure I could just put some gauze on the cuts…it'll be—"

"No." The man's voice took on an icy tone. "Losing him…it hurts…he was a victim of a _hero's_ ignorance."

Adriana turned on her heels, her moss green eyes losing their innocent glow and taking on a spiteful expression. "My husband…_he_ was the hero. It might as well have been that Bat character that pulled the trigger. Yes…yes it hurts," She took the soiled handkerchief and shoved it into his chest, clenching her teeth. "It hurts worse than you can possibly imagine, _sir_…"

The man watched as she stormed off. He felt like a child on Christmas Day. She was the perfect subject. Anger, hate, remorse, grief, the utter loathing she felt for Gotham's greatest hero…the bat-man.

He looked up again and held his hand up to his mouth. "My name's Jonathan, not '_sir_'!"

Crane stuffed the bloodied handkerchief in his pocket and looked over at the grave of Carlos De Soto.

"You have a devoted wife, Carlos my friend. It will be quite a challenge _and_ pleasure getting into her complicated little mind." He pulled a rose out of the arrangement and sniffed it, sighing as the rain cascaded around him. "Quite a pleasure indeed."

* * *

Adriana was curled up on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin. She stared at the newspaper in front of her feet and pursed her lips.

_Dark Knight Foils Robbery of Armored Car_

_Batman Rescues Workers in Recycling Plant Fire_

Adriana's breathing grew rapid, she felt her lungs closing as she sat there in the dark. Since surrounding herself with shadow, her sight and hearing abilities skyrocketed. She didn't need to turn on lights anymore. Senses were heightened by the ambiguity of her surroundings. She wasn't sure of anything, so she had to adapt. The papers were only some of the large headlines she had collected over the past few days. Adriana ran her hand over the headlines and watched as her wounds streaked the paper in with blood. She bit her lip, fighting back her tears, when she let out a sudden scream. She grabbed the papers in her fist and began to wrench, tear, destroy the articles. She didn't want to see the winged vermin's name, nor hear of his heroic deeds. She clenched the wads of newspaper in her hands and flung them to the side, desperately trying to rid herself of them. She rested her palms on the bed, heaving and sobbing wildly.

Her life was a mess. She was nothing without her husband. Money was dwindling, she could barely afford her home any more. Her family…she cut them out of her life. The offered help, but all they wanted to do was ship her off to the nuthouse.

'_I'm not crazy…I'm not. The city…the people…they're crazy. They follow the news to a T, glorifying that attention hog Batman. If they knew…if only they knew._'

Adriana's sobs slowed and dwindled until they were reduced to low, heavy breathing.

'_I know. The man…the man from the cemetery…he knew too._'

She cast her reddened eyes towards another article, slightly crumpled from her flailing. Adriana picked it up in her fingertips and pursed her lips.

_String of Citizens Sent to Arkham after Spontaneous Psychotic Episodes; Fear Strikes Gotham. Who Will Be Next in Line for Arkham?_

Fear. Gotham was afraid? Of what…a few crazies? These people were so easy to frighten ever since they got cozy with their city hero protecting them. She grinned. She knew how fear could turn one's mind into nothing more than pudding. So the people wanted to be scared?

"Then let's give them something to be afraid of."


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the reviews on the fic so far guys. It truly means a lot, and each one is very much appreciated. I had to replace this chapter for typing and grammar errors I realized after I had uploaded it.

* * *

The police station was buzzing as officers scampered here and there, important papers in their hands. Phones rang wildly off the hook while other officers chatted idly by the water cooler. No one seemed too worried about anything until a newbie on the force came streaking into the office. He was shoving past the other officers, his face reddened from what must have been a grueling run.

One man, a heavyset policeman, held out his hand, stopping his sprinting companion. "Whoa, Rookie! You look like a tomato. You okay?"

"Gordon!" The man blurted out, sweat dripping down his face. "Where's Commissioner Gordon?"

"Here." James Gordon was at his office, having gone out for a quick cup of coffee. "What's the problem, Charlie?"

The rookie pointed wildly towards the glass doors leading to the street. "I came as fast as I could, sir. We found another one."

Gordon rubbed his eyes in frustration and sighed. "Fourth one this week." He muttered before trudging towards the officer. "Alright, Charlie. Show me where he's at."

The rookie drove ahead of Gordon, weaving through intersections, lights flashing and siren blaring. James couldn't bear to see another crime scene. He knew there was a pattern, an obvious pattern, but there were no leads at all. That's what frustrated him the most.

When the squad car parked outside a lavish apartment building, Gordon already knew what he was going to face when he entered the building. He got out of his vehicle and pointed to the group of policemen crowded behind him.

"Make sure to keep civilians OUT of here. This is a crime scene. Understood?" They all nodded and hurried to keep their posts. Gordon turned to Charlie and nodded to the building. "Lead the way."

Various tenants were sticking their heads out the doors, but a quick glance from Gordon was enough to send them back through their doorway. The rookie headed to the elevator and stuck a card into the slot.

"Penthouse?" Gordon murmured and Charlie nodded. The commissioner rubbed his chin, his eyebrows knitted in deep concentration. The silence in the elevator was overbearing. Gordon could have sworn the rookie next to him was going to have a breakdown before they even reached the top.

Once the elevator doors slid open, the two men entered a posh, ornately decorated home. Rich fur rugs were scattered around, modern furniture made of metal and glass were the main eye-catching decorations.

But one thing was definitely out of place. A body, lying face up on the polished marble floors.

"Just like the others." James murmured, circling around the corpse like a vulture. "Rich, handsome young man found dead in the most unlikely place. Here, we have a penthouse. Last one was an opera box." The commissioner squatted beside the body and frowned. "He was posed…like the others. Hands folded together, eyes closed, lying face up. White dress shirt, black pants." The rookie peeked over the commissioner's head and cleared his throat.

"And…the…uh, the black mark on his shirt. Along with the flower."

Gordon eyed the messy black mark on the man's shirt. It was an 'X' shape, located right over the heart. And right beside the mark, running along the sternum, was a single white flower.

"So…you think it's the same person?"

Gordon nodded, grabbing his phone from his jacket. He flipped it open, dialed a few numbers and placed it against his ear.

"Carlson. Gordon here. Listen, get crime lab up here now. We need the whole deal…dust for prints, check for blood, anything and everything. And I need the examiner up here now. We have to check if this guy died the same way the others did."

Gordon closed the phone, wrapped up in his thoughts. Someone out there was killing these wealthy young men…men who suffered fatal heart attacks and dropped dead on the spot. Could there possibly be a criminal out there crazed enough to surprise a normally healthy man into cardiac arrest?

Then again, perhaps they were not so crazed after all. The care and patience it takes to arrange the body in a peaceful manner is something like a mother tucking her child in to sleep.

Gordon couldn't bear it. He rose from his position and headed to the door. "I'll wait for them to get here. Charlie, go take a look around. Don't touch anything. See if there's anything here in the house that can help us figure this little mystery out."

* * *

"Few witnesses are coming out, for fear of repercussions. One person, who wishes to remain anonymous, states that the string of recent deaths among aristocratic young men is no coincidence. Gotham's elite is facing a terrifying reality. Is someone targeting the wealthy among them? And if so…they ask…who will be next?"

"Who next indeed." Adriana whispered breathlessly to herself, flicking the radio off. She paced along the wall in her bedroom, her eyes dancing wildly as a toothy grin consumed her face.

The wall was littered with photographs, each one of a man more beautiful then the last. The pale woman raised a hand covered in what looked like black paint or ink and slowly dragged it across the face of one of the men.

"Poor thing. To be cut down so early in life. Sad really." She murmured, cocking her head to the side. Her tone couldn't be called remorseful, but it wasn't cold-hearted either. She felt a little guilty for the men she struck down…but they deserved it anyways. The flirts, the sweet comments, the buying of drinks in order to impress…if she hadn't had these men targeted early on, she would have never been able to figure out who to finish off first.

But her plan was working perfectly. She was striking fear into the hearts of the cowardly city dwellers. It wouldn't be long before cries for their hero would be fulfilled. The bat would come out of hiding and finally…finally she could see him face to face.

Oh the things she longed to tell him, to scream, to beat into his head.

No…for now, she had to remain composed and careful. Any slip ups and she would be caught.

She had managed to come this far. Everyone thought the cause of death was heart failure from a shock of some sort. Oh how wrong they were. She recalled her days of working in a pharmacy and picked her poison wisely enough. It caused all the symptoms of cardiac arrest, but was virtually undetectable. It worked best when inserted into a drink or food. Her vessel for the deadly concoction was something no one had ever used before. Pomegranates. It seemed a little odd…most would expect a drug to be placed in a drink or a more common garden delicacy. But Adriana could see that coming…and she was sure that's where the police checked first. She played her cards right, portraying the depressed young woman in need of attention. Once given to her, she simply spilled her heart out to the unknowing sap. He felt terrible once they heard her story and asked if anything could help. Here she had her lies perfected.

A sob story about the garden she and her husband planted yielded the right environment to introduce the tainted fruit. Her husband's fruits of choice were the pomegranates that grew from the garden. Ever since his death, the tree seemed to die along with him. So, as her grief counselor advised her, she was to rid herself of the horrible reminder.

Thus, she convinced the male would-be-suitor to take the fruit for her sake, just to help her with her treatment. They agree happily and, to show their ability to try and comfort her, they eat the fruit.

It was foolproof. These men were health freaks anyway. The fruit couldn't have been suspicious in the least.

Adriana sneered, casting a surveying eye over the field of new potential victims. All of them were perfect candidates. But she wanted one that would stand out…one that would grab all attention. One that would certainly get the attention of "Batman". Her eyes fell on one photo and her smile curled wider as her calculative, of not slightly psychotic, mind began for focus its attention on the picture.

"Perfect…" she mused, dragging her finger in a circle around the head of the victim, enclosing it in a messy black ring. "He's perfect. Now…where to find him…" She whipped around to the growing piles of newspapers and notebooks scattered around her room. She wiped her hand clean of the black ink before rummaging through the papers.

Her movements grew quick and sporadic, her dainty hands flinging the papers wildly out of the way. She grew agitated as no helpful clue could be picked out. Adriana's patient nature had collapsed and was practically non-existent, unless you count the calculated murders.

Finally, she was rewarded with a single article on the three day old _Gotham Gazette_.

_**Mayor Preparing to Throw Charity Gala for Gotham Elite**_

_After murders cause citizens to cry out for relief, a lavish ball is set to raise money for the dwindling police force, as well as to serve in the remodeling of both Blackgate Maximum Security Penitentiary and Arkham Asylum. Various beneficiaries will attend, as well as noted philanthropist Bruce Wayne._

_Mayor has great confidence, believing the ball will be a 'terrific success'…_

Adriana pursed her lips and squinted, focusing her eyes on the article. She looked at her watch and muttered beneath her breath, hurrying towards the phone. She only had a few hours to get ready…but first, a call had to be made.

She picked up the receiver and listened to the dull hum, struggling for the memory of the number she needed to dial.

Adriana punched in the buttons and waited, the ringing was painfully loud in her ears. Finally a click on the other line followed by a gentle voice she immediately recognized.

"Hello?"

Adriana opened her mouth, struggling to answer. But no words came out. The caller hesitated.

"Hellooo? Is anyone there?"

"C-Cassie…" Adriana managed to squeak in a hoarse, barely audible voice.

"Yes, this is she. Who is…" the woman on the other line paused. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, she started up again. "Adriana, is that you?"

"Y-yeah…yeah it's…it's me." She fumbled. It had been ages since she and her sister had spoken. It was like she was talking to a stranger.

"Adriana, I haven't heard from you in…like…forever. Sweetheart, are you okay? Is something wrong?"

Adriana looked down at her feet and her lips trembled as she spoke. "Yes. Cassie…I need to borrow some money."

There was more silence on the other line. Adriana bit her lip and took a deep breath. "Cassie, I need this money…I really do. It's not for anything bad, don't worry…but please Cassie. I need your help."

Finally, Adriana heard a quiet sigh from her sister. "Adriana, I trust you. Come over to the house and tell me how much you need. I'll make out a check."

Adriana's faint smile returned. She felt a genuine relief wash over her, thankful her sister could still forgive her.

"Thank you Cassie. I'll be over in a little bit." She gently placed the phone in the cradle. She held up the article and scanned her eyes over it, seeking out a particular bit of information.

Adriana picked up the phone again and dialed another number.

"Hi, I would like to reserve a table for tonight's gala at City Hall." She looked down at her nails, eyes closing drowsily as the operator drawled out numbers and prices.

"No, just myself. How much? …alright. Thank you. I'll bring a check down there in about…twenty minutes."

* * *

Doctor Crane grunted, struggling to find a comfortable spot on the rock hard mattress he was forced to sleep on. Ever since he had gone on the lam, Crane had been living in a dilapidated shack of sorts tucked away somewhere behind Arkham Asylum. No one bothered to come around, so he felt it was the safest place to be…plus, he still had keys to Arkham if he ever needed some more…items…for his experiments.

But now, his experiments weren't on his mind. No. Now, he was occupied with something a little more, intriguing.

Jon sat with the latest addition of the Gotham Gazette unfolded before him. He ran his fingers down the lines and rows of words, but he was barely reading the words. Only certain phrases stuck out like a sore thumb.

_Black marks over hearts_

_White flower_

_Heart attacks_

_Rich, handsome, young_

_Strange crime scenes_

_Serenely posed bodies_

Those rough descriptions of the crime scenes drove Crane's brilliant if not quirky mind to think outside of the box. Since he was unable to study patients in the comfort of his office in Arkham, he took to studying and analyzing petty crimes in the city. But these murders, these cruel crimes appealed to him. He was busy trying to get into the criminal's _head_ rather than trying to _find_ the criminal.

Jonathan stared up at the wall above his bed and frowned, focusing on various articles and things pinned onto the wall. Something seemed so oddly familiar about it all. Obviously, the murderer had something to say. The black marks were a pattern, always placed over the heart. He didn't think their wealth or looks had much to do with it, but was rather were used to get people's attention. The bodies weren't strewn wildly, but were lovingly placed on the floor, hands folded. The flower was an unexpected gesture, showing that the killer felt a sort of guilt over the whole thing.

Crane pushed his glasses up, sighing. It would be much easier if the killer was sitting in front of him. Instead of guesswork, he could study the subject easily. Crane reached out for his glass of water sitting on the nightstand, but wasn't paying enough attention and bumped his hand against it. The glass fell with a startling crash and water spread over the various papers strewn across the floor.

"NO! MY NOTES!" Crane yelped, collapsing to the dirty wooden floor and scooping up his papers. He managed to save most, but others were drenched into nothing more than masses of swirling black ink on paper. Crane cursed as the glass hidden on his notes cut into his fingers and dumped the papers on the bed. He reached down, spotting a napkin not yet fully soaked from the water. He held it in the air and grimaced. His notes on Subject B, Mrs. De Soto,were ruined.

With a hateful snarl, he raised his hand, ready to toss away the soggy commentary, when he hesitated. He looked once more at the unreadable notes, then stared at the articles on the wall. The wheels in his mind started to turn slowly...but a sudden realization hit him. He furrowed his brow, focusing on the newspaper on his bed and the soaking napkin in his hand.

Marks on the heart…an obvious sign ofa broken hearted individual. Love comes difficultly to the killer...so she marks the greatest symbol of love...the heart.

Attention…she wants the bat's attention. She wanted him to get the point...she wasn't going to be taken lightly.

Pose…Crane slapped his forehead. Of course that poselooked sofamiliar. It was the same way bodies are placed in caskets. Another sign pointing to the lady in black.

The white flower…

Jon dropped the napkin on the floor and raced to the front door, if it could be called that. It took a few tries to open, but he finally managed to jiggle the knob and race down the road to his car.

His lovely lady in black thought she could get away…but her chilling clues were just pieces in the puzzle she was making of her life. Jon knew she was going to keep killing until she was either caught or got her wish…the meeting with the Bat-Man.

And where better to cause a scene than the gala Gotham's mayor was throwing just minutes away from now?

Jonathan's faint smile appeared once more. Maybe he could get _his_ wish of studying the killer face to face fulfilled as well.


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce Wayne downed another shot from his glass of chardonnay and looked about the room. Most of these people he didn't recognize, but the ones that he did see seemed to avoid him. Maybe because last time there was a big event, his home burned down.

Nearby, an older man, round and balding, obviously had a few two many and was laughing a deep belly laugh as he shuffled past Bruce. He gave him a once over and raised his eyebrows practically above his hairline…if he had one left.

"My god, Bruce! Bruce Wayne! Well, it's a surprise to see you here!"

"Quite a surprise." Bruce smiled good-naturedly and tried to hold the smile as the man leaned in, reeking of sweet liquor and schnapps.

"I do hope you donate to this charity my boy. It's quite good, yes? Good. Good. Carry on with the festivities!" Bruce blinked as the man stumbled away guffawing and nothing in particular.

"Oh how I love these little events." Bruce muttered, grinning ear to ear. He surveyed the massive banquet hall for any sort of fun he could have. He had flirted with the bar attendant and got free drinks for it, but now he was quite bored again. He wished Rachel was there. Usually they could get along just fine. But she hadn't seen him for weeks upon weeks. Bruce had to get his mind off her until she came around. His eyes stopped on a young lady in the distant part of the room seated at a small table near the entrance. She wore a snow-white cocktail gown with ornate black deco creeping up from the hem. Bruce cast a side glance from the corner of his eye and spotted a waiter slowly approaching with a tray filled with drinks. As he drifted by Bruce, the young man plucked a glass of white wine from him and started towards the young lady.

As he approached, she watched him with a blank, indifferent look. Bruce set the drink in front of her and smirked.

"It's a party. Don't look so 'thrilled' and have a drink on me."

The young woman eyed the wine before a smile graced her pale face. "On you? I thought I just saw you take it off of that waiter's tray," She giggled, pointing a dainty finger across the way.

Bruce pondered a moment before snatching a seat across from her and resting her arms on the table.

"So you saw that, huh?"

"Yes I did."

"Hmm. Well, then that makes me look like a thief doesn't it?"

"Yes it does." She picked up the glass so delicately it looked like it would fall from her fingertips. "But how can I blame you. Half of these guys either ignore you or forget to bring you something. Am I right, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce was a bit surprised. She knew his name? How? The young lady seemed to respond to his surprise with a soft laugh.

"I read a lot of newspapers, Mr. Wayne. I recognized you from some of the photos. Does that answer your question?"

"Why, yes it does. But I believe I've never seen you at one of these events," Bruce stated plainly and smirked. "So what is your name, miss…"

The girl looked up from her glass, but her look gave Bruce sudden chills. "Adriana," She murmured, giving him a faint smile once more.

Bruce cleared his throat as he fixed his bow-tie. "Adriana? That's a lovely name." Bruce folded his hands together and stared at the empty chair beside her. "Adriana, may I ask you something?"

She shrugged her shoulders and nodded, taking another pull on her drink.

"What is a charming lady like you doing here at this lavish overkill of a party? You can't possibly enjoy it?"

"Well, I'm here more for the…charity work. You see my husband is…was…on the police force."

Bruce didn't like the way her tone seemed to drop from cheerful and receptive to cold and reclusive. But something about her voice was so dismal, he couldn't just up and leave.

"Was? What do you mean 'was'?"

Adriana looked down at her hands and pursed her lips. "Well, he was killed while on duty. It was hard to let go, but I think he would want me to be happy now. Plus, if this place is giving the money to help rebuild the jail and asylum, we can get those criminals off the streets. That's what my Carlos did." She smiled proudly, her tone warm once again. Bruce nodded.

"I'm sorry to hear about your husband. But it's nice to see you've taken a step to get out."

Adriana sighed before frowning and taking a quick look around. "Mr. Wayne, do you perhaps know when the dinner will be served?"

"Dinner?" Bruce didn't know the reason for the sudden change in direction of the conversation, but he looked down at his watch and shrugged. "Probably another half hour or so."

Adriana began rummaging through her purse, smiling to herself. "I knew I should have eaten lunch. You have no idea how hard it has been to remember the simplest things!"

Bruce chuckled. "Oh I know, trust me." He watched as she pulled a round, maroon object from the purse and set it down before her. He frowned at it, then looked up at her. Adriana was smiling at him.

"I can see you've never eaten a pomegranate before? What can I say, I'm a health nut." She stared at the object for a moment and her smile wilted. "Carlos used to love these." She looked up at Bruce and laughed. "We actually planted a tree of these for his birthday. Ever since he passed away, the tree has been going along with him."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You know…my grief counselor, Sandy, she told me the best way to move on is to give small things that remind you of lost loved ones." Adriana picked up the fruit a moment before placing it in Bruce's hand. "Here. Take it."

"Wh-what?"

"You've been quite a nice man to chat with, Bruce. You're not like many of the guys that come around me. I liked the change. Very gentleman-like."  
Bruce smiled at the compliments from a total stranger and laughed. "Well, I…er…" He stared at the pomegranate and grinned, holding it up at her. "Thank you. Once I get food in my stomach, I'll eat this for dessert."

Adriana smiled and nodded faintly as Bruce got up when the lights dimmed. "Enjoy your evening Bruce. Perhaps we can chat soon again."

"Perhaps we can." Bruce smirked and turned on his heels, stalking towards his table.

Adriana wrung her hands together, waiting until he was far enough away, before stealing off into the crowd and making her way towards the exit. A security guard held out his hand and raised an eyebrow.

"Leaving already, ma'am? Dinner is about to start."

"Yes sir. Well, I completely forgot to give the sitter keys, just in case she wanted to leave the house and bring my son for a drive. I have to leave now if I want to make it back in time."

"Oh, well, go right ahead, miss." The guard smiled and gave a quick nod as she glided out the door.

* * *

Outside, the air was cold. Adriana pulled her black coat tighter around her and let out a long breath that chilled into a white fog, hanging in front of her like a phantom. She checked her watch, muttering to herself, as she quickened her pace. She wanted to be at home when the news came over the television:

"_Bruce Wayne found dead in his home._" Or…even better. Found dead at the banquet. Adriana smiled, wrapped up in her dream-like state. She didn't see the man standing on the curb as she walked by. Nor did she hear him start to follow, his footsteps light and quick. She only felt a warm arm link with hers and jerk her around a corner. Her head snapped around and she stared at the offender. His face was smooth and his features were round and shapely. His dark hair fell into his face, but she caught a glimpse of him and let out a gasp.

"YOU…"

"Just keep walking Mrs. De Soto."

Adriana tried to free herself, but the man held fast. She glowered at him. "You're the man from the cemetery. You're a stalker aren't you!"

"Stalker? No. I prefer the term 'faithful observer'."

"Observer? How about observing my fist in your mouth?"

The man chuckled icily and tugged at her again, picking up their gait. "You are in no position for threats, Mrs. De Soto."

"I can do just as I please."

The man looked her up and down from the corner of his eye and snorted. "Of course you can."

"Just who the heck are you?" She snarled and yanked on her arm, but it was no use. He held fast.

"Me? My name is Jonathan. I thought I told you that at the cemetery. Or did you ignore me there?"

"I probably ignored you, you little worm."

"Oh that's rich. Worm." He held out his hand as they turned another corner. "My name is Jonathan Crane."

Adriana refused to grab his hand. "You already seem to know my name. I see no need to tell you it."

"As you wish…" He grinned.

Jonathan pointed to a black convertible car, practically hauling Adriana to it.  
"Well…get in."

Adriana shook her head and whipped around, struggling to break free from his grasp.  
"Let me go! I'm not getting in your car!"

"Mrs. De Soto, I don't think you want to start a scene. The police are the LAST people you want to see…"

Adriana growled as she was shoved into the front seat and watched as Crane gave her a cool, knowing smile. She slammed her fist against the glass and sneered as it cracked and spider-webbed beneath her hand. Crane crossed over to the driver's seat and frowned disapprovingly at the young lady.

"Now, now…that wasn't very nice."

"Kidnapping isn't very nice either."

"You're not a kid. And I never said I was nice. Don't worry," Crane began, his faint smile appearing once more as he started up the car, "I'll give you the bill for that window."

Adriana scowled and turned, staring out the cracked window. After a while of driving, as well as complete silence, Jonathan cast a glance from the corner of his eyes at Adriana.

"You're quite silent for a woman stuffed in a car with a stranger. Any thoughts? Feelings?"

"I feel nauseous."

"From nervousness?"

Adriana faced him with the same calm demeanor he had displayed earlier. "I'm nauseous from being stuck in this car with some guy and his cheap cologne."

Jonathan grinned. "My cologne's not cheap. And if you feel so sick, open the window a bit." He paused and gave a soft laugh. "Oh that's right. The window is damaged." He made a sudden sharp turn, sending Adriana against the passenger's door and slamming her head against the glass. She let out a painful cry and sat very still until she felt the car roll to a stop a few seconds later. Crane exited the car and walked over to open her door, holding out a hand to help her up.

Adriana looked up from his hand and locked eyes with him. They held a sympathetic look, but it was still eerily ice cold.  
"You really should learn to wear a seatbelt. That might turn out to be a nasty little bump."


	6. Chapter 6

Crane paced around the old wooden chair Adriana sat in, holding his notebook in one hand and a cup of steaming hot coffee in the other.  
"Are you sure you don't want anything to drink?"  
"I'd rather not."  
"Why? You think I'd try to poison you?" Crane chuckled and placed the cup on the bed stand. "No, no. Poisoning is _your_ gig, remember?"

Adriana watched him, her eyebrows in a permanent frown as he continued walking around her. "Let me guess…you're some kind of private investigator. You've been stalking me…trying to see if I'd kill anyone." She rose from her seat and pointed at him. "You got lucky, tonight. I wouldn't have gotten caught if you would have just butted out!"

"Sit down. Please." Crane pushed down on her shoulder, shoving her into her seat. He squatted in front of her and cocked his head curiously. "You think I'm a P.I.? Just because I found out your little scheme?" Crane rose up again and scribbled in his notebook. "As I said before, my name's Jonathan Crane. Doctor Jonathan Crane." He tossed the book into her lap and smirked. "I've been studying you. You see, I'm a psychiatrist and—"

"Whoa…hold on. Did you just say 'studying' me? STUDYING? Listen buddy, I don't know who you are…but you have NO right to study me!" She yelled, launching his notebook onto the floor. "Just what the heck is your problem?"

Crane remained stony faced and plucked his book from off the ground. "I have no problem. On the contrary. My observations have been quite…rewarding."

"You were one of those kids who got his head flushed down the toilet a lot in school, huh Doctor? After hitting on the cute cheerleaders, their jocky boyfriends gave you a few too many swirlies..."

Crane placed two fingers against Adriana's neck and looked down at his watch, smirking coyly. "My life is not the one being analyzed here, Mrs. De Soto. Hmm…interesting." He scribbled onto the book and raised an eyebrow. "You seem quite calm, despite your current situation."

"Maybe because I realize I'm in the presence of a psychiatrist, not a killer." She snapped and folded her arms. "Or maybe because you are perhaps the saddest person I've ever met in my life and I feel a little pity for your pathetic existence."

"I liked the first answer better." Crane sat opposite her and folded his legs one over the other, resting his ankle on his knee. He stared at her for a while, making her uncomfortable, before he quickly wrote on the papers. "You see, Mrs. De Soto, as a psychiatrist I enjoy studying how the human mind grows, develops, changes…And, after doing a little research, I feel it safe to say that your mind has been quite busy lately."

Adriana scowled. "Excuse me? I'm perfectly fine, Doctor Crane. I have NOTHING wrong with my head."  
"So you say. But your actions prove otherwise." He ran a finger down his paper and raised an eyebrow. "At first you were quite invisible. I barely noticed your daily happenings until it was brought to my attention."

"I don't try to bring attention to my actions, doctor. I was visiting my husband's grave. I was a grieving widow."  
"And now you are a serial killer. Your mind has slowly regressed. And once your mind began to dissipate, so did your morals."

Adriana dug her fingers into the arms of the chair. "I am not crazy," she spoke softly, her voice quivering with anger. "I had my reasons for what I did…but I'm not crazy."

"You killed four men. Five, if you count tonight."  
"I needed to make my point!"  
"So targeting five handsome, rich, young men is the means to get that point across?"  
Adriana glowered. "You're the psychiatrist here…you think you know me so well, then figure it out yourself."

Crane fixed his glasses and folded his hands, resting them on his leg. "Well, you see, Mrs. De Soto…my focus is more behind the fear that drives people to do what they do. I believe that if I can figure out exactly what is making you do this, I will gain a little more knowledge to add to my notes."

"Fear? Is this what all this is about? You want to see if something was scaring me to the point of murder?" She laughed and shook her head. "I think I'm going to leave now. Have fun observing someone else Doctor Crane, because I refuse to let you play these little mind games on me any more." Adriana got up, ready to leave, when Crane grabbed her wrist rapidly.

"Mind games? No mind games here. I'm just trying to talk with you."  
"Let me go."  
"Why are you doing this? You wanted attention…you got attention. Shouldn't you be stopping now?"  
Adriana hesitated before a dark look came over her. "I said let me go."  
"I will. Once you tell me why you haven't stopped yet."

"I won't stop!" Adriana yelled, but Crane didn't budge. She wrenched her arm away and stood in front of him, her eyes flashing. "Is that what you want to hear me say? To say that I enjoyed watching those pompous pretty-boys fall on their faces once they had a heart attacks, to say they had a quick death, practically painless? Well, forget about it. I will stop. Once I get what I want, I will stop. But the bat…I want him to suffer the most. He took away everything precious to me." Adriana seethed, angry tears falling from her lashes.

Jonathan said nothing. He had an expressionless face and only moved to push up his glasses. Adriana shifted her weight on her leg and slowly sat back down. Crane pushed his notebook aside and curled his finger around his chin as he studied the girl's face before finally speaking.  
"Mrs. De Soto…I honestly see no reason for you to ever stop. Even if you meet the Bat face to face…once you get the chance, you will continue."

Adriana held her face in her hands, biting her lip. "You don't know that."  
"Oh. But I do. You see, I'm in the same boat as you are. I would have told myself the same thing…but I still haven't stopped my ways and habits." He bent down and began rummaging under his bed. Adriana watched as he pulled up a tattered old newspaper clipping and handed it to her.

She looked at the picture and saw that it was him, Jonathan Crane. The caption below mentioned a court trial, finding him guilty and sending him to Arkham. Her heart stopped. She was sitting in front of an escaped madman.

"I wanted to continue my experiments. I had a few people get in my way. Rachel Dawes, a nosey young lady, was quite persistent. She would have been easily run down if it hadn't been for the bat-man. I had him bending to my whim once, but he learned and overcame what I threw at him. In turn, he attempted to turn my mind into mush. Using my own weapons against me." At this, Crane laughed. It was a soft, chilling laugh that ran up Adriana's spine. "I was far too smart…when the SWAT team blew up that hole in Arkham, I knew this would be my chance to get back at the man who sent me there."

Adriana sat in silence. Doctor Crane was right, in some ways. They were quite similar in the fact that both lost something close to them; Adriana lost her husband, Crane lost his job and some of his sanity. But something nagged at her. He mentioned his "past ways" and how he continued to practice them. Curious, she cleared her throat.

"Doctor Crane…you…uh…why did you get sent to Arkham anyways? I mean…you're not a psycho mass murderer are you?"  
"Me? Murderer? No, no, no…of course not. Actually, I am quite glad you mentioned that." Crane began rummaging beneath his bed as he continued speaking. "I told you already that I studied how fear affects people, correct?"  
Adriana hesitated. "Y-yes."

"So, I want to show you exactly why I was sent to Arkham."  
Adriana sank into her seat as Crane pulled a clean metal box up onto his lap and opened it slightly. His eyes focused on her face and a smile ghosted his face once more.  
"You look nervous."  
"I…I just don't know. What do you have in that box anyways? A gun? Spiders?"

"No, better than that." Crane slowly pulled a brown object from his case. He held it in his hands, hiding if from Adriana, and squinted as he stared at it. "Adriana, tell me. Did your husband ever mention a plan about some gas that was released throughout Gotham?"

Adriana nodded, holding the arms of the chair a little tighter. "Yeah. He was called out one night because there was a breach at…" She trailed off and stared at Crane. He was pulling something over his face, a mask it looked like. Two holes were cut out for his eyes as well as a "mouth" messily sewn across the face. Some burn marks were located on the face, but Adriana wasn't sure why. All she could focus on were the two cold eyes staring at her.

Suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, a white cloud of smoke consumed her vision. Adriana began to cough and gag, holding her throat and pushing on the floor with her legs. The chair screeched as she slid backwards and collapsed to the floor with a sickening thud. For a moment, she lay on the floor and blinked, enjoying the rough feeling of wood under her cheek. She wasn't dead…nor was she going to die. But everything around her was warping and shining, and she felt a growing feeling of nausea as things began to spin.

Crane sauntered over casually and grabbed Adriana around her middle to hoist her to her feet. She turned, stumbling slightly, and her eyes grew wide.  
"Mrs. De Soto…surely you've heard of The Scarecrow, haven't you? Your husband was there when I was arrested and shipped off to the asylum…he must have mentioned the crazy man who was dumping chemicals into the water supply…"  
Adriana whimpered, shaking her head and trying to shut her eyes.  
"Please let me go home."  
"Home? Why? You have nothing to go to at home…" Crane brought his masked face closer, the mouth growing into a wide, lopsided grin. "Am I scaring you, Mrs. De Soto?"  
Adriana trembled, opening an eye. She let out a scream and pointed at his face. "Worms!"  
"Worms? Hm…that is a little strange now isn't it? I thought that _I_ was the worm…" He reached out and pinned Adriana's arms to her sides. "So you see? We never change our ways, Mrs. De Soto. I will always be The Scarecrow. I will continue my experiments. I will continue to strike terror into Gotham citizens one by one. You're going to do the very same…I can see it now."

Adriana shook her head and frowned sharply. This man wasn't going to reduce her mind into a mess of paranoia. She balled her hand into a fist, waiting until Crane released his grip, and swung around her hand, striking him in the cheek. The worms and maggots scattered around her fingers and sprinkled over the floor as Jonathan roared in pain.  
"I'm not going to be another one of your victims, Doctor Crane. You think you can frighten me…but you can't. I lived through my greatest fear already…losing everything I loved. I will get back at the Bat…don't you worry about that, sir."

Jonathan held his cheek and writhed on the ground. She had struck him on his injured cheek, the one scarred from the taser, so hard that black spots were floating through his vision. He didn't want to get up, and he didn't want to get another punch…especially from a girl. But if she escaped…he would be found eventually. With much difficulty, Jonathan grabbed the edge of his mattress and pulled himself up, staggering around for a moment. He looked up in time to see Adriana barreling towards him like an angry bull. His arms flew up to guard his face from another assault, but she instead grabbed a handful of burlap and wrenched the mask from his face. Crane gave a startled cry, struggling to retrieve it from her hand.

Adriana yelped, dropping the mask and watching as maggots crawled over her hands and fell to the floor with soft popping noises. Her head snapped up, ready to face Doctor Crane. But something stopped her. Her eyes grew wide and she grew very pale.

Crane took the opportunity to overpower her and shoved her back into the chair. He towered over her, his hand outstretched.

"Give. Me. The mask."

Adriana, trembling, handed over the burlap mask and sucked in her breath as he snatched it from her. Crane stared at her in curiosity. She was looking at him as if he had two heads on his body. Her green eyes were wide, but void of any life. She looked at him as if he was there, yet wasn't there at the same time. She let out a soft sob and pursed her lips as tears threatened to pour forth.

Jonathan wheeled around on his heels and crouched in front of the young lady. She squeaked, throwing her hands up to her mouth as her convulsions grew worse. Crane thought it must have been a reaction to the gas, but he quickly changed his mind once she reached out and held her palm up to his face.

Jonathan scanned her face and backed up slightly. "Excuse me, Mrs. De—"

"Carlos!" Adriana blurted, the color completely drained from her face as she threw her arms around Jonathan. The psychiatrist practically fell backwards if he hadn't managed to throw his arms back. Once he regained balance, he immediately tore away from the girl and took large steps back.

Adriana looked confused. Her eyebrows were knitted upwards in a bewildered look and she winced. "Sweetheart…what's the matter? Carlos, it's me…"

Crane ducked as the girl tried to touch his face again. He refused physical contact, especially from one of his experiments. But she was adamant. She truly thought he was her husband.

And idea slowly dawned on him, and Crane grinned. Oh this was perfect. Her state of mind was so deteriorated that her hallucinations were grossly vivid. She could picture things she _wanted_…they manifested before her eyes.

'_Interesting…_'

Crane circled the wide-eyed lady and rested a hand on her shoulder. Perhaps a little manipulation in the name of science was in order.

Adriana looked up at him and shuddered. Here she was, facing her husband. She knew he was dead…she had been there at the burial. But right now, he was so real…

"Adriana, are you alright?" That was Carlos's gentle voice. She knew it. Adriana broke down and began to sob, falling into 'Carlos's' shoulder. She shook madly and clutched to him. She didn't want him to disappear. She didn't want this to be a dream.

Jonathan swallowed his utter loathing as the girl clung to him like velcro. He eventually held down his pride and raised a hand to pat her shoulder. "My poor dear." Crane frowned. '_That was lame. How long has it been since I ever talked to a girl? I sound like my grandfather…_' Jonathan held the shuddering girl tighter. "Adriana, what did they do to you? What happened to the strong girl I knew before."

Adriana sniffled and looked up, wincing. "Wh-what? Carlos…I….I am strong. I'm still strong."

"Crying? You call that strong?" Crane held the girl out at arm's length. "Whatever happened to the bright lady I married? You're so…weak and pathetic. I…I could barely recognize you."

"Carlos, I'm still the same. I am. I…I'm trying so hard to fix things. I swear it."

Crane's head rolled back just a bit. He stared at her through the very bottom of his glasses and raised an eyebrow. "You're going to fix things…How? By sitting around? Adriana…look at what happened to me. How could you just take that by sitting down?"

Crane watched as Adriana seemed to crumble before him. He had found her weakness, and wanted to twist it until she couldn't take it any longer.

"I…I'm going to fix it. I swear to you…" Adriana murmured, her empty eyes growing hard. "I'll make sure the Bat pays for it in full."

"Not just the bat. Everyone. Everyone who treats you like an inferior, everyone who tries to hurt you. Do you understand me? Everyone."

Adriana reluctantly nodded and stepped forward. "I understand." Adriana tilted her head and smirked, slowly brushing her fingertips on Crane's bruised cheek. "I promise to make them pay."

Crane, taken aback by her sudden approach, grabbed her hand tightly. He spun her into the wall, sending various things from the nightstand to the floor. She stared at him with a mixture of bewilderment and fear until the sound coming from the various objects hitting the floor turned her look to utter terror. She struggled to free herself from Crane's grip and shook wildly.

"What did I tell you about being strong, Adriana?" Crane hissed, his voice venomous as the girl struggled to shrink into the wall. "What's the matter? Hmm? You look a little…" Crane's voice lessened as he frowned. The girl was shaking more than before. "Adriana…" he winced, watching her eyes grow wider and emptier by the second. "What's wrong?"

Adriana pointed a quivering finger to his forehead. "God no…please…please make it go away!"

Crane couldn't see it, but Adriana was struggling to hold down her nausea as she stared at her husband's face. She had watched as the nightstand items toppled over, but for some reason, the sound of the objects hitting the floor was so loud she flinched when she heard it. Everything seemed amplified…noises, colors, shapes, shadows, everything. Once she looked up again after the thunderous clatter, she was face to face with the hideous sight of her husband…a bullet through his head. She couldn't bear to look at it, but he continued to press forward, pushing her to the wall. She was feeling queasy. She had been able to stand the funeral, and had even been able to handle the footage on the news stations day after day, the footage where the shots rang out and she saw her husband collapse. But to see her husband's injuries in full view...to see them right in her face…

Crane watched as Adriana's eyes rolled back and she crumpled into a heap against the wall. He smirked coyly, slowly making his way to the bed to grab his notes. Flipping open to a fresh page, he began to write.

_Subject B exposed to fear gas. Used medium dosage. Results were unique to the specimen. Due to her extreme mental psychosis, hallucinations were more violent and believable. Also, personal memories, such as memory of deceased husband, manifested into her hallucinations._

_I believe that Subject B feels need to keep husband's memory alive, as well as avenge death. She feels need to prove her strength, to show husband that she is still capable and still what she used to be. _

_Subject B collapsed after seeing some sort of unpleasant vision. Will need to ask more once specimen awakens from unconsciousness. More studies necessary._

"But now," Crane grimaced over his nose at the body nearby. "I'm going to have to bring this young lady back home." He looked around and grumbled a hateful, "Wonderful."


	7. Chapter 7

As the midnight hours dwindled away, Bruce slid into the back seat of his car and gave a slight groan. "Alfred. Why…why must I always get sucked into these things?"

"What things. Master Wayne? Giving money away to the community? I have absolutely no idea why you do it, but you should stop. Giving money to charity, puh…who needs it? They certainly don't." Alfred drawled from the driver's seat. Bruce couldn't help but smile.

"Alfred, I'm sensing a hint of sarcasm. Besides, I wasn't complaining about that. I was just…well, there was a charming girl at the party, but she just disappeared. I wanted to talk to her afterwards, but she…she just left."

"Ah, the fantastic Bruce Wayne lost another catch. I'm sorry sir, but you only bring _those_ sorts of hardships to yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Bruce leaned his head back and looked down at his coat pocket. The pocket bulged oddly and the young man pulled out a spherical red object.

"Hey, Alfred?"

"Yes Master Wayne?"

"How the heck do you eat one of these?" He stuck out his hand as it clutched the pomegranate and waved it in Alfred's face. Alfred twisted his neck, trying to keep an eye on the street.

"You cut it open and eat the seeds. Master Wayne, I can't see the road…"

Bruce pulled back his hand. "Sorry about that, Alfred. Say, do you have something I could open this thing with? I need something a little sweet right about now. The dessert they had wasn't the greatest."

"I'm afraid I don't carry around large sharp knives, Master Wayne. Perhaps one of your little knick-knacks that you use to swing around the city may help."

Bruce rummaged through his pockets and found what he was looking for. One of the sharpened 'batarangs' would have to do. He began working through the fruit, slicing it open little by little. "Aha!"

Alfred looked up in the mirror as Bruce held up a perfectly cut half of the fruit. "It worked?"

"Thanks for the advice Alfred, now let's see how these things taste…" Bruce raised one of the blood-red seeds to his lips and popped it in his mouth. "Hmm. Not bad."

"Honestly, Master Wayne, did you steal that from the banquet?"

"Nah," Bruce chuckled as he popped another into his mouth, "the girl I mentioned, the one that disappeared, she gave it to me. Says it helps with grief or something."

"I thought I told you not to take things from strangers."

"Come on Alfred, I couldn't just refuse. She was doing it because her husband died and she had to give away little mementos of him. This just happened to be one."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Master Wayne."

Bruce dropped a few more seeds into his mouth. They were quite delicious, after one got used to the taste. But something felt strange. He could feel his ears warm up, then suddenly his fingers and toes went cold. Goosebumps crawled over his flesh and he swallowed hard. His throat felt a little tighter. Perhaps his bowtie was on too tight. Bruce wiggled the thing around his neck, but then just decided to untie it. That would be less complicated.

Still…the creeping cold sensation grew up his legs, as well as flaring and freezing temperatures.

"Let's just hope you didn't have too much to drink. You recall what happened LAST time…right?"

Bruce said something, but no words could be heard. All he felt were his lips moving. Even Alfred's words started to fade out of his head.

His eyelids grew droopy and sweat began to bead on his forehead.

Alfred looked up in the mirror. "Master Wayne, are you listening? I asked you if you enjoyed the meal." The elderly man's eyes focused on Bruce and he frowned. "Sir…are you feeling alright? Your face looks ghastly pale."

"Alfred…something…" Bruce murmured, his lips growing into a sickly blue color. "Something wrong…with me?"

Alfred watched in horror as Bruce's eyes rolled and he slumped over in his seat, the halves of pomegranates falling to the floor of the car. Alfred quickly pulled over and hurried to the back seat, straddling over Bryce and shaking his shoulder as hard as he could.

"Master Wayne! Master Wayne you get up this instant!" Alfred flew back to the driver's seat and hit the gas, peeling out of his spot. He had to hurry if he was going to get Bruce to the hospital. If something happened to him…Alfred shook his head. Something was definitely wrong. Something had happened to Bruce.

* * *

Adriana groped around where she lay, straining to feel for any clue, any hint to where she was exactly. Her thoughts swam with memories of last night. She could picture the banquet as well as a drive to some slovenly looking house with…that man…what was his name? Jacob something? Jordan…no. Adriana clutched her head as it throbbed with a dull sensation. She opened an eye cautiously and pouted, her mouth slightly open.

She was home.

Adriana picked herself up and noticed that she was in bed, her sheets tangled around her legs. Her hair was tousled and her overall appearance was slipshod. She was, however, still dressed in her fancy white cocktail gown, but her necklace, earrings, bracelets, rings…all were removed and dumped on the nightstand nearby.

Adriana slipped out of the sheets, wincing as an overwhelming pain bore into her skull. She braced her body against the wall and took a deep breath. What was wrong with her? She felt along her forehead, finding a large bump. She must have hit her head and probably knocked herself out. But how did she end up here, back home?

Adriana shuffled out of the bedroom and stood in the hallway. The television was on, tuned in to the local news station. On the kitchen table lay a spread of food; Fresh cut fruits sat in a clear bowl alongside orange juice, a bowl of cereal, and a plate of toast. Adriana stepped up to the chair and stared at the food in bewilderment.

"What the…"

Adriana looked around for any sign of anyone in her home who could have prepared it. But there was no one there. She looked back to her great breakfast mean and spotted something nearby, tucked beneath the cereal bowl.

Adriana frowned, pulling the paper out from underneath. It was folded into a neat little square, and as she unfolded it, she saw neatly written words across the very middle.

The message was simple:

_Thank you for our little chat last night. I got a lot of needed information from it. Enjoy the meal and I suggest a cold compress to the bump on your head will bring down the swelling._

—_Jonathan Crane_

Adriana blinked. Crane. Yes, that was it. Doctor Crane. He must have been the one who helped her home after hitting her head. But how did he know where she lived? She must have been awake, telling him where to go. She just couldn't remember.

Adriana reached forward, grabbing the bowl of fruit and a fork, and crossed over to the couch in front of the television.

Jonathan…what a creep. Now he knew where she lived. A complete stranger.

Adriana's thoughts were interrupted as her attention grew focused on the television.

One of the reporters was standing outside the police station mentioning something about a press conference starting soon over the attempted murder of someone Adriana immediately recognized. Bruce Wayne.

But that's not what caught her attention. What she couldn't understand was why the reporter said "attempted murder". Attempted?

Adriana grabbed the remote, turning the volume higher as Commissioner Gordon stepped out in front of the flashing cameras and various microphones placed on a large wooden stand. He looked a little wary, but cleared his throat and the dull hum of voices went silent.

"**_For the past few weeks, various murders around Gotham kept us all in a state of heightened awareness and fear. We have had no leads or witnesses come forward out of the fear that they would be targeted as well._**

**_Last night, resident billionaire Bruce Wayne was sent to the hospital after collapsing in the back seat of his car by his driver. He was brought immediately to the hospital, where, thanks to the diligence of the doctors and staff, he made a healthy recovery. The catalyst for his collapse is thought to be poison, due to the fact that doctors needed a very specific antidote to help Mr. Wayne. _**

_**Mr. Wayne, still a little sickly from his hospitalization, has managed to come down here to the station and is now working with a sketch artist in order to identify who may have done this terrible act. The attacker is described as female, wavy brown hair, green eyes, about five foot six with a thin appearance and pale complexion. She was seen at the Mayor's gala last night, and several people, including a security guard, corroborate with Mr. Wayne's story. Once more information is uncovered, I will be sure to notify the good people of Gotham City. We are determined to find this "femme fatale" by and means necessary.**_

**_Thank you._**"

Adriana didn't feel the bowl in her hand clatter to the ground. Nor did she bother to pick it up. All she could do was stare at the throngs of reporters barking questions to Gordon.

Bruce Wayne was alive. Alive. How could she have been so stupid? The other men, well, she had seen them fall before her very eyes. But with Bruce, she only assumed it would work. She shouldn't have gotten so smug, so comfortable. The tiniest mistake would blow up in her face.

Just like it was doing right now.


	8. Chapter 8

Gordon stepped back into the safety of the police station, sighing and rubbing his head. "It's like a pack of animals out there." Gordon pointed at the young man sitting at a nearby desk and then forked his thumb over his shoulder. "Next time, Mr. Wayne, you do the conference and call those hounds together. I'll sit out."

Bruce chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sorry to put you through this, Gordon, sir. But…I just want to let the public know how close we are to catching this girl. To think I even bought her a drink at the party…" Bruce rested his chin on his palm, scratching at his face, and peeked at the composite in the police sketch artist's hand. He shook his head, frowning, and pointed to the eyes. "No, her eyes were a little less…bright. Yeah. Like that. She had that sort of tired look to her. She didn't really look too happy to be at the party. Sort of empty. Cold." Bruce pursed his lips and motioned to her hair. "She had a flower in her hair too. She looked so normal. I still can't believe it."

Commissioner Gordon paced behind the police officer making the composite and peered over his glasses at the drawing of the young lady. There was something familiar about her. Perhaps the eyes, or the overall face…but something was sticking to Gordon's head. He cocked his head, squinting, when an image suddenly flashed into his mind. His jaw dropped. "Oh my god."

The sketch artist lifted his eyes as he added the final touches to the picture. Gordon was staring down as if he had seen the very name of the mysterious girl. "What is it sir?"

Both Bruce and the artist jumped as Gordon snatched the paper from the desk and practically shoved it in Bruce's face.

"Are you absolutely _SURE_ this is the girl who gave you the poison?

Bruce stared up at Gordon for a moment, looked at the picture, then returned his eyes to the commissioner.

"Y-yeah. I'm sure. Why? Is that a bad thi—"

"Did she give you a name? A number? Anything?"

Bruce's mouth opened and closed. Last night's events were still a bit blurry. He could recall sitting by the girl…what did she say?

Bruce could feel the chill run up his spine…the same chill he got when she looked at him and gave him her name. He looked up at Gordon and scowled.

"Adriana."

Gordon cursed, rushing to his office. He rummaged through his office, searching every photograph, every document, everything. Some people stood outside the office, watching as Gordon worked at a feverish pace.

Finally the commissioner flew out of the room, his face reddened from running around, and slapped a photo onto the desk.

Bruce looked down and frowned, his jaw going slack.

"That's her…wait. Who…who is—"

"Adriana De Soto." Gordon pointed madly at the man in the picture. "Her husband, Carlos, this guy here, was the officer that was killed about a month ago in a hostage situation." Gordon looked at the photo with a sick feeling. There was a slight relief now that the killer was identified. But…how could it be? Looking at the photo…it was a picture from the couple's wedding…they were so happy…

Bruce's expression also fell. He remembered that night the officer died. He remembered it very well.

"She's the last person I would expect this from." Gordon paused, taking a deep breath and bracing himself against the chair beside him. He held his hand over his face and shook his head. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he motioned to some of the officers around him and picked up his coat. "Let's go. She must be at home still. It's only ten thirty. Mr. Wayne—"

Bruce held up his hand and shook his head. "No, no I know. I'll get going. I'm feeling a little sick still anyways."

Gordon started towards the door. "I'll call you when we get her. Don't worry Mr. Wayne. We'll get her."

Gordon walked out of the building, the feeling in his stomach growing worse. He had to go and arrest an old friend's wife…not to mention she was an old friend herself…for murder. He could still see the young lady on her wedding day. Gordon lifted the photograph of the happy couple and frowned. She was so fair and wonderful, so innocent.

Then he remembered the day she was donned in black, clutching to her husband's badge. It was the only thing she had left of him. She remembered when she gave him a look, drawing her eyes from her deceased husband's casket and looking at him. She looked sad, but Gordon saw a dark hatred in her look. He knew Adriana blamed him for her husband's death. At times, Gordon also wondered whether he was to blame for the death of Carlos as well.

Godron started up his car, rubbing his eyes. He didn't know how he was going to bring himself to do this. He couldn't bear the thought of going up and slapping cuffs on her fragile wrists. She had changed so severely, from what he heard. She was thinner, fairer, and more volatile. He remembered Carlos, whom he had treated with the deepest respect. He was one of the few uncorrupt policemen on his force, and he respected him for that. Gordon could see how losing a good man like Carlos could affect Adriana. He even felt a sympathy for her.

"But nobody…_nobody _is above the law," he murmured begrudgingly and pressed the gas, his car speeding through the streets of Gotham towards a loft across town. He knew the address well enough. He just wished it was someone else going for the arrest.

* * *

Adriana threw the door closed behind her with an ear-shattering bang and flew down the hallway of her building. She pressed the elevator button wildly, muttering as the thing took forever to climb to her level.

She wasn't going to get caught. No, not after coming so far. After memories began to waft into her mind, she could picture one thing clearly: Carlos calling her weak. She knew her husband would never say that to her, but something deep inside pulled at her heart. She had to be strong for Carlos. She had to fix things…for him.

Adriana shifted her purse, stepping out of the building at a quick pace and looked over her shoulder nervously, trying to see if anyone was watching. She stalked down the street and raised her hand, desperately trying to hail a cab. Adriana reached for the door, hesitating as small droplets of water began to drip around her. She could hear mournful wailing sirens a few blocks away. They'd be there soon. It was now or never.

Adriana slid into the back seat and looked behind her through the rain-splattered back window.

"Where to?" The cabbie barked gruffly, smoke pouring into the back seat from his lit cigar. Adriana coughed, waving her hands to clear the air.

"Cemetery. Please hurry. It's urgent." The car took off immediately. She gave a sigh of relief and sank into her seat, trembling slightly.

"You look sick." The driver muttered.

"You don't look so hot yourself." Adriana snapped back. The driver gave what looked like a forced smile and pulled the cigar from his lips.

"You late fo' sumptin', Miss?"

Adriana's gaze shot to her purse, but quickly returned to the rearview mirror where the man was looking at her.

"Yes, I'm late for something. A funeral."

"Pretty dressed up fo' a funeral, ain'tcha?"

"Just keep your eyes on the road." Adriana spat venomously before falling into silence. The cab driver took the hint and picked up speed, heading towards the gray green hills covered with headstones.

* * *

"You see Master Wayne? Don't take things from strangers. I try and try to tell you. Do you listen? No. Look what happens when you ignore me." Alfred scathed Bruce as the young billionaire fixed his mask over his face.

The cave echoed with soft chattering of the bats hanging overhead, as well as the thunderous sound of water splattering against the rocks. Alfred didn't want to see Bruce go out there, not in this condition. He was still a little sick from the poisoning, but he refused to be checked in the hospital. Once he got the antidote, he demanded that he was taken out of there. Alfred could do nothing but chastise him all morning.

Bruce didn't want to hear it. "Alfred, I didn't think she'd try to kill me! She looked so depressed that I thought perhaps she wanted some company. I had to take her gift, Alfred. How would you feel if you turned down a gift from a widow?"

"As you say, Master Wayne." Alfred drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Bruce frowned and whipped around, his black cape fluttering behind him.

He headed to his black vehicle, deemed the Batmobile, and gave one last look around the cave. He had almost lost this once before in the fire, he almost lost it again last night. He had to be more careful if he was going to survive, Bruce Wayne or otherwise.

"Please take care Master Wayne. She tried killing you once…I doubt she'll show leniency this time."

"Oh come on Alfred…she's just a girl. I'm not going to lose a fight with a girl." Bruce's kind demeanor sunk into his dark, rough nature. He scowled hard and got into his vehicle.

Alfred shook his head, throwing a towel over his shoulder as he headed to the shaky elevator and listened to the Batmobile careening out of the cave.

"She's just a girl with enough motive to kill you twice over, Master Wayne. Listen to me for once."


	9. Chapter 9

"Adriana! Adriana De Soto, Open up, this is the police!" Commissioner Gordon bellowed, slamming his fist into the door.

There was no reply.

Gordon motioned to the officers holding a heavy cylindrical object resembling a battering ram. He sidestepped out of the way before allowing the men to charge forward, thrusting the weight of the cylinder and themselves against the door. It only took one solid hit to throw open the entrance to the loft, and soon the entire place was filled as officers poured in, scurrying around to secure the rooms.

Gordon was the last one to enter the home. He looked around as each of his men stated the rooms clear one by one. Gordon swore under his breath as the last room was cleared and slammed his palm against the table.

She had taken off.

"Sir!" One of the officers in the bedroom waved to Gordon. "We've got something here! You better come take a look at this!"

Gordon breezed past various policemen and headed into the room. The officer who called him pointed at the wall opposite the bed. Gordon grew numb as his eyes scanned the wall. It was covered with articles, photos, magazines, everything imaginable. Four of the photos had been enlarged and were smeared everywhere with black paint. There were handprints on some faces, Gordon guessed Adriana must have gotten a little angry and hit the wall with paint on her hands.

The faces behind the smeared portraits were hard to see, but very clear once brought out into the light. They were the four murder victims.

Gordon, dumbstruck, stared at the pictures and shook his head. Adriana _was_ the one targeting those men. She had it planned for so long. Gordon looked up and spotted another picture. This had Bruce Wayne's mug enclosed in a black circle.

She must not have had time to mark the victim's photo, or she had heard that he was still alive.

Gordon had to get this stuff. He picked up his phone and dialed frantically, listening as the dial tone hummed in his ear. After what felt like an eternity, there was a click and voice on the other line.

"Rachel Dawes, district attorney."

"Ms. Dawes? This is Commissioner Gordon. Listen to me. I need an emergency warrant now."

"Oh? What for, commissioner?"

"We found the girl who's been targeting those well-to-do men uptown."

"You caught her?"

Gordon sighed in frustration. "No, she took off before we got here. I really need this warrant. It needs to cover photos, papers, documents, computers, medicines or drugs, anything and everything that was involved in those murders."

Rachel hesitated on the other line, but Gordon could hear the gentle scritch-scratch of her pen.

"Alright sir, I will definitely try to get this warrant as soon as possible."

"No, please don't try. You have to get this warrant."

"Alright commissioner. I'll get it for you. Goodbye." Rachel murmured and hung up the phone.

Gordon stormed back to the main room of the home and looked around. Perhaps he missed something. Something out of the ordinary or something so small it would have been ignored.

As he searched, his eyes landed on the coffee table in front of the television. He frowned, spotting an overturned bowl of fruit on the ground, and crouched to get a better look at it. She must have been eating when she left. Recently. Gordon looked up at the table and spotted a napkin resting there, messy writing scrawled on it. He picked it up, holding it at eyelevel, and grimaced.

_Gordon, long time no see. Well, actually, I'm not there to really see the look on you and your boys' faces when you look around my home. I expect you to be somewhat surprised._

_I hope you find everything to be in order. I like to keep my house clean, so please do not mess it up._

_Well, now that you have found out my little hobbies, what else can I say? It's been…real fun._

_But don't worry, you'll hear more from me soon enough. Perhaps, if your lucky, you can track me down and we can just laugh about all that's happened._

_Oh…one more thing. If you see him, tell the BAT that I'll be waiting. For him._

There was no signature. But Gordon knew Adriana had written it for him. He handed the napkin to another officer.

"Evidence. Get off fingerprints, DNA, anything you can, off of this."

"Yes sir."

Gordon stuck his hands in his pockets and sauntered over to the large window as it grew speckled with rain. He let out a long sigh when something suddenly caught his attention. He squinted, focusing on a dark figure looking across the street atop one of the various buildings there. Gordon turned to his comrades and hurried towards the door.

"You boys keep working. I gotta take a…uh…phone call."

"Sure thing boss."

* * *

Bruce was perched on an air duct on the roof, decked out in his full fledged bat-suit, watching as policemen scurried in and out of the building.

He knew Gordon had seen him and decided to make his way down the building to meet him below, waiting in the shadows.

Gordon stepped out of the building, searching around the street for Batman. He scratched his head, throwing it back to take a look at the large building in front of him, and cocked his head curiously. Where was he?

"So," a gruff, gravelly voice started, catching Gordon's ear, "I take it the girl isn't there?"

Gordon stepped towards the alley and saw the outline of someone standing in front of him.

"News travels fast I see…"

Batman stepped forward, his face mostly hidden in the shadows as he continued. "You looked pretty angry there…I only assumed she had taken the back door. Any idea to where?"

Gordon couldn't see him very well, but he could see the determined, hard look in his eyes. Too bad he knew less than Batman did.

"Hey, I'm as curious about it as you are. She's good, real good, at covering her whereabouts, although, she did leave enough evidence behind to convict herself twofold. A little messy if you ask me."

"Evidence? Like what?"

Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose, images circulating through is head. "She had photos of the men she killed in her room, as well as tons more pictures and articles. It's obvious she was targeting them. One of the victims, Bruce Wayne, wasn't marked yet, but you could see how she was hell-bent on getting that guy." Gordon shook his head sadly. "It's so strange…she's been practically nonexistent since her husband was—"

"Yeah. I know. I was there." Bruce snapped, cutting him off. He could see that night perfectly in his head. Almost a month ago. He hadn't noticed the officer behind him, or he wouldn't have stepped out of the line of fire. Batman masked his grimacing face with a deadpan look.

"Any clues to where she might be?"

"No. She's probably on a train to who-knows-where right now." Gordon paused, then held his chin. "But she did leave a note. She said she had to leave, but promised to continue making headlines." He stopped and looked up at Batman. "She mentioned you as well."

"Me?" Batman growled, taking a dangerous step forward. "What about me?"

Gordon's face crinkled as he grew deep in thought. "She said…she said she'd be "waiting for you"." Gordon shrugged. "That's all she gave me." He looked up again, but the Dark Knight had disappeared. Gordon stood in the rain as it sprinkled around him and shook his head. Of course. Every time he talked to that guy, he was left empty handed or stuck outside with nothing.

* * *

Bruce sped down the rain-slick streets, his face growing hard each time he echoed the thought of what Adriana had said in that note…

"_I'll be waiting. For him._"

Bruce slammed on the brakes, sending water spraying from the tires as he came to an abrupt stop and swerved into a dark alley.

No one ever…ever threatened him. Especially if she had tried to kill him once before.

He leaned back into his seat, listening to the patter of droplets on his car and closed his eyes. There had to be a way to find her. She had to be stopped.

'_Think Bruce, think. Gordon said she's probably on a train by now…but if she said to keep looking for her in the news…no. She wouldn't back out now at the last second. From what I can see, she's in it for the long haul. Plus she's waiting for me. I don't think she'd run if she throws out something like that._' Bruce let out a snarl and slammed his fists against the steering wheel. '_So where can she be?_'

He looked out the window of the vehicle and scowled. Slowly…ever so slowly, something began to emerge. He began piecing bits and pieces of the puzzle together. What Adriana was trying to do was get back at him. He knew the feeling, going to the trial of the man who killed his parents…He was focused on killing that man. He could almost sympathize with her. Almost.

Bruce ran a hand over the wheel and grimaced. "Then what about the poison? What was that for? It was either just a distraction for the police or…"

Bruce blinked. "Or…another way to get my attention." She had almost killed him as Bruce Wayne, drugging him and leaving him for dead. She was so meticulous about the other murders…why be so messy for this one? She was expecting him to drop dead and get more attention focused to catch her. She knew "Batman" wouldn't stand for the people of Gotham to be terrorized. She _wanted_ him to catch her.

Bruce knew exactly where to go. She only had one last place where she could run to.

Her precious Carlos.


	10. Chapter 10

Adriana kneeled in the muddy earth, digging her fingers and nails into the ground. She could see a blurry reflection in the polished headstone. Her own. She ran a muddy finger down the stone and bit her trembling lower lip. The police were probably ransacking her home right now, waiting until she either came home or was caught. Everything she had was left back at the loft…her money, her jewelry, her clothes…

She had nothing left.

Adriana leaned her forehead against the cool, wet headstone and closed her eyes, sucking in her breath sharply.

"Am I making you proud yet, Carlos?" She whispered, brushing stray hairs away as they stuck to her soaked skin. "That's what I'm trying to do. I hope you understand. I'm showing you how I can go on with life…look, see? Everything…everything is going to be fine." Adriana rubbed her cold cheek against the rough carving of her husband's name.

After a moment, she picked up her sopping wet purse and pulled out a slightly wilted lily, placing it among the various dying roses arranged before the grave.

"I'm sorry, love. I know it's not much, but…it's all I could grab before I left home." She started to rummage through her purse, murmuring to herself. "I…I did manage to bring something else. I know you'll like it." After a few seconds, Adriana abruptly stopped moving. She could hear a faint sloshing coming up the path, slowing to a stop beside her.

Her eyes slowly drifted up the dark figure's body until she was staring at his face, the rain flooding her vision. She gave a startled gasp, leaping to her feet, and pointed at the figure.

"Y-you! Batman! What are you doing here! Get out of here now!"

"What? Not happy to see me?" He asked gruffly. "I thought you were "waiting" for me…Did you get cold feet?"

"This is my husband's grave. How dare you even think of coming here…you have a lot of nerve! Get away, now!"

The caped figure slowly circled around her. "I was looking forward to seeing the girl who's holding a grudge against me for something that was an accident."

Adriana quivered. Not out of fear, but out of pure hatred and anger.

"An accident? You call this," she thrust her hand at the grave and scowled, "an accident? You stepped out of the path of a bullet in order to save YOUR life. How very heroic of you…"

"I was only doing my job…" The bat muttered calmly as the young lady approached him.

"Job? Your job…oh! That's right! Protecting the good people of Gotham. How could I forget?"

Batman lowered his head and frowned at her. "You're not exactly the picture of innocence yourself."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that!" Adriana brought up her hand, slapping the hero across his face. The bat took a few steps back, holding his cheek, and scowled at her.

"You're stronger than you look…" He growled, setting his jaw. Adriana stood a few feet away, shaking her hand a bit as a smile crept onto her lips.

"Well, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that…"

Batman watched as the delicate-looking lady picked her purse off the ground and squinted at him through the rain. The caped figure glared at her.

"So…is that it then? You kill four people to get to me…you give me a sissy slap, and now what? You gonna hightail it out of here?"

Adriana took a few tentative steps forward and stopped just inches away from Batman.

"Actually," She gave a soft, chilling laugh. She placed an arm around his shoulder and rested her soft hand on the back of his neck. She smiled up sweetly and stared up with oddly inviting eyes. "I wasn't going to leave until I could do this."

Bruce scowled as the lady leaned up, coming too close to his face for comfort. Before he could pull away, he felt something sharp against his abdomen. He blinked, staring down as Adriana's demeanor changed from warm and gentle to ice cold.

"Oops." She muttered and pushed him hard away from her. The caped man fell backwards and looked at his stomach for the source of the strange feeling. All he could see was the handle and the lower part of a blade sticking up from his suit. He wrapped his hand around the handle and wrenched the weapon from his suit, hissing in pain.

The girl crouched beside him, grabbing his face in her hands. "So…what does it feel like, you disgusting little vermin, to see your world turn upside-down? Does it hurt? Does it hurt to know that a pathetic girl like me was able to do this to you? Never let your guard down, Batman. Anything can happen when you do…lesson number one." She twisted his neck towards the tombstone nearby. "See that man's grave? That man…he was a good man. Sweet, honest, loving…he was devoted to his work and his duty as a husband. And where has that gotten him? Into a box under the dirt….dead…thanks to you." She squeezed his face harder. "We were going to move out into the suburbs. We were searching for a nice home out there, hoping that we could find a good one in a good neighborhood. We were going to start a family, settle down, grow old together, watch our children grow up…" She picked up the fallen blade from the mud and held it up against his neck. "And you just had to ruin it all. Well…you're not so smart…look how easily letting your guard down allowed me to trick you into my little web."

Adriana yelped as the Dark Knight reached up and clung to her hand, an odd, spiteful spark in his eye. "You're not the only one with little tricks, Adriana." The man pushed himself off the ground and hoisted the girl into the air by her arm. She screamed, flailing and kicking her legs. She landed a few good kicks until the caped crusader flung her to the ground like a rag doll.

Adriana let out a strange sound, a kind of squeak and hiccupping noise, as her face hit the muddy earth. She pushed herself up, craning her neck around and staring at the hero through the dirt and blades of grass. She spat out a mouthful of mud and looked down. Right beside the man's feet was the blade, just resting there. She had to get it.

Batman touched the tear in his suit and winced. The knife had gone in deep, but wasn't too long and only punctured the skin. He would be fine. He started towards the girl to pick her up when she scrambled past him on the ground and clutched the knife in her fingers.

Batman lunged after her, but she was already on her feet, heaving and glowering at him.

"You see what I've been reduced to? I'm a criminal. I'm a murderer. I'm a menace. Why? Because…because I have to make my Carlos proud. I have to show him how strong I can be."

"Give me that knife."

Adriana swallowed hard and looked up. She could hear a noise down at the gate. Sirens. She turned to Batman, horrified.

"You called them here…"

"Give me the knife Adriana…"

"You're trying to get me arrested. No…no I won't. I won't go with you, or them, or anyone!" She brought the weapon around, trying to catch him off guard. But the Dark Knight was on it. He immediately grabbed her wrist and clung to it as she wriggled desperately to get free.

"You need to pay up for those murders."

Adriana scowled, dropping the knife into the mud. As a last attempt, she reached out and swung her free hand at his face, striking a few good punches and scratches. She screamed, trying to break away from his grasp, but the man held fast. Adriana slapped him hard across the face and laughed her harsh, cruel laugh. "What's the matter, Bat-boy. Can't take a few punches? Too big of a man to strike back? Whatever happened to sissy slaps? Good job there, HERO…"

Batman's temper boiled over. He brought his fist around and, before he could stop himself, struck the girl across the cheek. He frowned, watching as she tumbled from his grasp, teetering and blinking slowly.

The masked figure immediately regretted it. '_Bruce, what are you doing punching a girl?_' He rushed over, trying to catch her before she fell, but it was already too late.

Adriana's vision grew white at the edges, the noise growing to a dull hum. Her head lolled about slowly until she felt her body hit the soft earth. Blurry figures were rushing up to the scene, but she didn't care about them. All she could think of was her talk with Carlos last night. How she could feel him, hold him, talk to him. Then, a quiet memory slipped into her head. The last feeling on her face was from the tears rolling down her cheek. After that, everything went numb and blank. All Adriana could think about was one thing…

"_I'm so sorry Carlos…I promised I wouldn't cry._"

* * *

Gordon raced through the graveyard, weaving through the headstones. He had heard screaming, and he was expecting the worst. Lucky that cab driver had been listening to the news or else they'd have no idea where to find Adriana. But something was wrong. Gordon could sense it. He came to a sudden stop and knitted his eyebrows together as he spotted the lifeless figure in the mud, soaked and dirty.

"Oh no…god no…please tell me that's not her…" He hopped over one of the headstones and fell to his knees beside the young lady. She was bleeding from the corner of her mouth, and a stark red mark stood out on her pale cheek. He placed his fingers on her neck and sighed in relief. She was still alive.

A few other officers trudged up behind Gordon and frowned, looking away from the scene. Adriana had been a staple at the office, always visiting the boys when Carlos was on his lunch break. She was like their sister, everyone's friend. To see her like this, her face coated in dirt and blood, was awful. Gordon looked up at them and held his hand over his face to block the rain.

"Get an ambulance up here. I'll bring her down to the sidewalk." He lifted the girl into his arms, surprised at how light she was. He turned, preparing to leave, when one of the officers let out a shout.

"Sir!"

Gordon turned his head. The policeman held up a dingy, grime-covered object and proceeded to wipe his thumb over it, washing away most of the dirt. It was Carlos's badge.

"I found it in her purse. What do I do with it? Send it to evidence?"

"What for?" Gordon barked. "Let the girl keep it. We can't take that away from her." Gordon started down the muddy path, watching his steps carefully. He didn't want to slip now. Before reaching the gate, he threw one last look up to the hillside. A dark figure loomed there, watching him with unblinking eyes before disappearing into the rain.

Gordon felt the girl twitch in his arms and watched the ambulance scream down the street towards them. He got a mixed feeling from this little victory. He was thrilled to have caught the killer, but sickened at the thought of putting Adriana into prison.

"Commissioner?"

Gordon looked up as a paramedic stood there, arms outstretched. "I'll…I'll help you put her on the stretcher."

The paramedic nodded. "Yessir."


	11. Chapter 11

"Good morning Darcee." Jonathan Crane murmured sleepily as the blushing blonde coffee shop attendant giggled at him.

"Good morning, Jonathan! The usual?"

Jonathan smirked and took his seat beside the café window. "Of course. Thank you Darcee."

Darcee skipped off, grinning ear to ear as she began to brew Jonathan his coffee.

Jonathan drummed his fingers on the table, pulling his pen out of his coat pocket, and stared out the window. He hadn't slept well at all last night, having spent half of it exploring Adriana De Soto's home. He closed his eyes, yawning as he propped his head on his palm, and brought up last nights events.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

_After hauling Adriana into her bed and carefully removing her jewelry, Jonathan started a little evaluation of the home. The first thing he noticed was the enormous collection of photographs tacked to the wall. He stood there, his blue eyes scanning the wall, with his hands placed one over the other behind his back._

"_Hmm…she has textbook sociopathic tendencies, as well as what resembles moderate schizophrenia. Probably brought out by her depression and isolation…" Jonathan cast an apathetic look at the unconscious woman and raised an eyebrow. "Mrs. De Soto, you were screwed up LONG before I got to you…" He chuckled, heading out into the hall. _

_He poked his head into a room and flipped on the light. It was a cold, almost empty office, one large desk and computer that looked as though it had been untouched for a while. He ran his finger across the desk and had a disgusted look come over him. "The least she could do is clean this place."_

_He headed back out into the spacious living room. Crane picked up a photograph sitting on one of the tables, frowning. "So…this is the mysterious husband I keep hearing so much about?" He was tall and handsome; Dark hair, bright eyes, a definite ladies man as far as Crane could tell. He looked about the same age as Jonathan, but still had a childish grin on his face. Jonathan placed the photo back and flipped it around. He didn't care much for looking at other people's pictures. _

_The young man swaggered into the kitchen, looking around and sighing. The digital clock on the microwave glowed in a bright blue-green hue._

_**1:57 AM**_

"_It's two am? Are you kidding me? Oh that's just perfect." Crane scowled. He wanted to be sure the young lady was alright, but she was still out-cold. He had no way of seeing any results from his experiments._

_Jonathan wandered over to the couch and collapsed onto the furniture sleepily. He flipped the television on as he rested his head on one of the plush, cool pillows. Perhaps she would wake up soon. Until then, Crane saw no reason to leave this warm home for his rat infested shack. He gave a large yawn, pulling off his glasses and stretching lazily. He just wanted to rest his eyes for a moment until he could leave the house without falling asleep at the wheel._

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"_BAM! Just look at that bacon sizzle!" _

_Crane woke with a start, swinging his hands in front of his face wildly. The man paused, struggling to slow his breathing and rapid heartbeat, then looked up at the television. His eyes narrowed and he switched the channel. "Stupid cooking shows…" He snarled and stood to his feet, arching his back until a pleasing **pop!** came forth He scratched his head, his hair disheveled from sleep. How long had he been out? He looked towards the clock. It was blurry. Realizing he was missing his glasses, he immediately pushed his spectacles onto his face and stared up at the clock once again._

_**9:03 AM**_

_Crane's eyes grew wide. He shot a glance out the window at the gray morning sky and mentally slapped himself. "How could you just fall asleep like that, Crane?" He staggered into the hallway and frowned. Adriana was still blissfully asleep in her bed. Jonathan had to leave, or he'd bee seen by one of the neighbors._

_He walked groggily to the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast for his "specimen". If he couldn't be there to see results, what harm could there be in continuing his experimentations? He pulled something from his pocket, inspecting it carefully before dropping the little white object into a cup. It bounced around the glass, clinking against the sides, until Jonathan poured orange juice into the glass. He stirred it thoroughly and set the cup on the table. After cutting up some fruit and almost setting the toaster on fire, Crane set the table and folded his arms proudly. He surveyed the spread with a growing pride and turned on his heels, heading to the bedroom._

_Jonathan rummaged through the nightstand, pulling a pad of paper from the drawer and a pen from his coat pocket. He started scribbling on the paper, mouthing the words as he placed them on the page. He looked up at Adriana and, for a fleeting instant, stopped writing. A frown crossed his features as he rose up, hovering over her motionless figure. Jonathan brushed away some strands of hair from her face. A large bump stood out on her forehead, probably a result from hitting her head against the car window. "I told you that would turn out to be a nasty bump…" Crane murmured. He traced his thumb over her injury and cocked his head curiously. She looked so peacefully unaware of her strange and morbid life. Here she looked so…normal._

_Jonathan was startled when the young lady's face creased with a frown and she gave a soft whimper. He must have pressed on her injury too hard. Crane retracted his hand quickly, switching his movements to smoothing out his jacket and fixing his tie. He turned back to his note, wrote something else down, then headed back to the living room. He folded the paper, sticking it under the bowl on the table. Crane grimaced, looking over his shoulder at the open door and Adriana sleeping. He stalked out the door, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets._

_He was hungry and would rather be eating a scone instead of hovering over an unconscious psychopath. _

_He climbed into his car and glanced at the cracked window. "I really must get that fixed…" Jonathan looked up at the building one last time before taking off down the street._

_- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - _

"Jonathan?" Crane blinked from his thoughts and looked up. Darcee was standing over him, holding out a cardboard cup and beaming. "Here's your coffee."

"Wh-what? Oh…oh thanks. Thank you Darcee." Crane plucked the cup from her hands and forced a smile as the girl skipped back to her post. Crane rubbed his sleepy eyes and sipped his coffee. The warmth rushed into his body like a flame, his cheeks reddening from the heat. It was a cold day in Gotham. He was usually used to the cold, but as the rain fell outside, he was thankful for the warmth of the café.

'_No matter how annoying its occupants are…_' Crane cast a scathing look at Darcee before looking out the window. He listened carefully as soft sirens caught his attention. Funny, the police barely came around this part of town. He looked up at some of the other patrons. None seemed to take any notice of him…he was being silly. The police weren't after him. He sank back into his seat and watched the squad cars sail by the window. '_You see? You're being ridiculous, Crane. Just calm down and drink your coffee._'

After about twenty minutes of silent musing, Crane was broken from his thoughts.

"Like ohmygawd!"

Crane glanced at Darcee, who was staring at the small television screen in the corner of the café. She was glued to the screen and struggling to keep up with the big words as a reporter spoke on the news.

"What's the matter Darcee? Big sales at the department store or something?" Crane sneered smugly.

"No, silly...Like, they caught that girl that's been all over the news!" Darcee rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. "Jeeze, like, what a little—"

Crane frowned and stood up from his seat, staring at the screen. A picture flashed on the screen as the reporters continued to speak in the background. Jonathan's jaw dropped.

"Adriana."

"Like, I can't believe her. She totally killed people. That's so mean." Darcee clicked her tongue and returned to making coffee. She looked over to Crane so she could continue her angry rant, but Jonathan was gone.

* * *

"I can't believe it. I can't…she…how on earth did she get caught?" Jonathan fumed as he blazed down the road in his speeding car. "It was a matter of time before they caught her. How ignorant could she be? She should have made SURE Bruce Wayne was dead before leaving." Crane pursed his lips. He'd never see the result from his experiments now. He knew that, although she was a woman, her crimes were cause for major punishment.

But he knew a few things about the justice system. He WAS, of course, the man sent to evaluate many criminals…so he knew just how to keep Adriana off of death row…at least he hoped so.

Crane skid to a stop in front of a grungy payphone and hopped out of his car, pulling out a card from his coat pocket. He fed the machine a few quarters and dialed the number on the card. A wry grin slipped over his face as the other line was picked up.

* * *

"Rachel Dawes, district attorney."

"Miss Dawes…"

Rachel frowned as a familiar chill crept over her shoulders. The voice on the other line was cold…quiet…dangerous. She looked around her office and clutched the phone tighter.

"Yes…this is she. Who—"

"Miss Dawes, I congratulate you and the entire police force for their excellent job on catching that psychopath that was poisoning people."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Uh…thank you? Excuse me sir, I hate to sound rude, but I really must get going. I have to go down to the station and—"

"Of course…you have to do your job."

"Yes, now if you'll excuse me…"

"One thing before you leave, though…" The voice paused a moment. "Make sure you thoroughly evaluate that girl. Something seems a little off if you ask me."

"Excuse me?"

"Just make sure you give those with mental imbalances a fair chance in court. I would hate to think how a guilty conscience could affect your habits. I would hate for you to lose your beauty sleep over sending a clearly schizophrenic young woman to the electric chair."

Rachel scowled. "Sir? Are you suggesting that this young woman who is CLEARLY guilty can justify her actions due to insanity?"

"Ms. Dawes, you and I are both professionals. I know what I'm talking about. Ship that kook off to Arkham and we'll keep the prisons a whole lot safer."

Rachel rose from her seat angrily. "Hey! Just who is this? Hello?"

But all she could hear was the dial tone. Rachel placed the phone back on the cradle and looked down at the papers in front of her. Perhaps the caller was right. This young woman had no previous records, and she was the wife of a policeman. Sure, that doesn't exactly prove innocence…but maybe…

She looked at the phone one last time and picked it up quickly. After a few seconds, a rough voice came on the other line.

"Commissioner, this is Rachel Dawes. I would like to have a meeting with Adriana De Soto this afternoon. Would you be able to accommodate that?"


	12. Chapter 12

Rachel's feet tapped anxiously on the linoleum floor of the police station. An officer approached her slowly.

"Ms. Dawes?"

She looked up at the sound of her name and stood, fixing the black back ganging from her shoulder. The officer motioned for her to follow. She was led through the precinct, down the grimy halls washed out from the pale fluorescent lights. The officer stopped in front of a large window and nodded to it.

"She's in there. We've been trying to get answers out of her since she was brought back to consciousness."

"Anything good yet?"

"She's good at shutting up," the man growled.

Rachel folded her arms and peered through the two-way mirror. Gordon was inside, pleading with the young woman to talk. But she was stubbornly silent. She wasn't even looking at him. Her attention was on something outside the mesh-covered window. She was in her own little world.

However, something drew her attention from the window. The young lady's eyes shifted to the mirror that Rachel stood behind, watching in safety. Even more interesting, the girl was staring right at Rachel.

Gordon watched the girl curiously before stepping out the door. He was surprised to see Rachel standing there.

"Ms. Dawes? How long have you been standing there?"

"Just a few minutes. May I go in?"

Gordon held open the door and allowed Rachel to pass. "Good luck."

Adriana's eyes never left the woman entering the room. Rachel sat opposite her and pulled her black bag onto the table.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. De Soto. My name is Rachel Dawes." Rachel held out a hand, but Adriana didn't bother to even attempt to shake it. She simply stared at the outstretched arm and then at Rachel.

Rachel immediately lowered her arm and cleared her throat.

"Right. Well, Adriana, I'm just here to have a little talk with you."

Adriana's eyes drifted to the window again, slowly glazing over as she sat there. Rachel looked up at the mirror, sighing and motioning to Adriana.

"They're not there."

Rachel blinked, quickly turning back to Adriana, who was staring at her.

"Excuse me?"

"They left. They're not behind the mirror." Adriana turned her head away. "It's just you and me, Dawes."

Rachel scratched her forehead and opened her bag, blushing from embarrassment, as she pulled out manila-colored folders filled with papers.

"Well…good. I think I'd be better just speaking with you, and I'm sure you don't want them listening to you." Rachel smiled. "First off, if I may ask, where on earth did you get those injuries from?"

"I don't know." Adriana murmured bluntly. Her cheek was maroon in color, the bruise a perfect circle. The bump on her forehead was smaller, but still stood out.

Rachel folded her hands. "Really? I would think that such…'violent' injuries would stick to the memory…"

Adriana sighed in frustration and pointed to the bump on her head. "This…I…I don't remember how I got it. But this," She motioned to her cheek and winced, "I got from being punched." Her eyes darted to the mirror and her hand fell to her side.

Rachel frowned. "Punched? Who punched you?"

"They're back again."

Rachel sighed. "Adriana, please, you have to answer—"

"I won't. I won't until you make them leave."

"Who?"

Adriana shook her head and turned from Rachel. Rachel looked up at the door, got up hesitantly, and poked her head out the entry. There stood Gordon and another officer chatting to one another. Gordon spotted Rachel and held up his hands.

"Well? Did she say anything yet?"

"Actually, sir…" Rachel looked back at Adriana, then at Gordon. "She refuses to say anything else until you two…uh…leave."

Gordon looked puzzled. "What?"

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. She just says to leave.

Gordon hesitated.

"Please sir."

The officer next to Gordon looked up at him. "Well?"

Gordon shrugged and waved at Rachel. "Fine, fine. Just get what you need from her, understand? Let's go Sam."

Rachel returned to her seat and smirked. "Now, where were we? Ah the injuries, right. Adriana, please tell me…what happened to you?"

Adriana reached up, touching the bruise gingerly. "The bat."

"Bat?" Rachel's eyebrows came together in a frown. "Like, a baseball bat? Someone struck you with a bat?"

"No…" Adriana's voice was monotone, but quivered with suppressed emotion. She looked out the window. "The…the bat. Batman."

Rachel scowled deeply. "Batman? _Batman_ hit you?"

"You don't believe me."

"Well…I…" Rachel stuttered and bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I just…don't know if I can believe that." She paused and shook her head. "Forget it. Let's just move on." Rachel pulled out some photos and slid them around on the table, allowing Adriana to see them. "These men look familiar to you?"

Adriana picked up the pictures, two in each hand, and gave Rachel a look of utter torpor.

"Your point, Dawes?"

Rachel was a bit taken aback by the hostility in Adriana's voice and cleared her throat once again.

"These four men…you killed them."

Adriana slid the pictures back to Rachel. "I did."

"Why did you do it?" Rachel murmured, leaning forward on her forearms.

Adriana's eyes narrowed. "Rachel, have you ever been in love with someone?"

Rachel sighed. She'd heard this one before. Many, many times. "Yes, I have, but not enough to kill people. Adriana. Your husband was a cop. You saw and heard all the awful stories…all the terrible things that happen on the streets every day…how did you have the heart to go out and do those things? You were being just as bad as those other lowlifes out there."

Adriana pursed her lips, her hands quivering on the table. " I had to."

"No…no you didn't HAVE to…You—"

"I…did. I…I did!" Adriana slammed her fists on the table. "I needed to see that rat face to face! I was going to show him and everyone else that you just don't trample my life to pieces and not pay for it!"

"But 'Batman' didn't kill your husband! The man who did is behind bars right now!"

"And the 'hero' that was sent to protect my husband failed. So…who's at fault there?" Adriana's face was expressionless once again. She averted her eyes from Rachel to the window. "Besides. My Carlos told me to defend my rights. He told me right to my face…I had to take care of myself and if anyone hurt me…"

Rachel watched in surprise as the girl trailed off and began to break down into a fit of tears. Rachel looked around and bit her lip.

"Adriana, Adriana listen…please? Shhh, no, don't…don't cry. Adriana, here, let me get you some water. Okay? Sound good?"

Adriana nodded and rested her head on the table, staring out the window and shaking with sobs.

Rachel got up, holding her papers tightly, and hurried out of the room.

Halfway to the water cooler, Rachel felt a large warm hand clamp onto her shoulder. Startled, she whipped around and scowled, slapping the hand away.

"Bruce! Jeeze, don't do that!"

Bruce Wayne looked tired, holding his head as he apologized.

"Sorry Rachel. I didn't think you'd be so jumpy."

"You'd be jumpy too after trying to talk to…well, you know. That lovely friend of yours who tried to kill you."

"Oh…her." Bruce scratched his head. "Did…uh…is…is she alright? You know…" He made a fist and held it up to his cheek.

Rachel bent over to fill the Styrofoam cup with water. "What? Oh, she's just dandy after you beat her across the face, _Bruce_." She said his name with a slight hiss and stalked past him.

"Hey….hey wait a second." Bruce tailed behind her. "Hey, I didn't mean to hit her. Hard. I just meant to…you know…"

Rachel stopped in front of the two-way mirror window and turned on Bruce. "Listen Bruce. I know what you did was…out of your character. But that won't stand up in court anyways. She's been through enough to make anyone crazy. But boy does she have you…or should I say 'Batman'…right in her radar. She blames you for everything Bruce. To her, you killed her husband. That punch will be used as proof that perhaps Batman has targeted her specifically. She blames you for her misery." Rachel frowned, holding a hand on her hip. "Frankly I don't blame her," she muttered.

"What! Rachel…I didn't mean to hit her! I…I don't know what came over me." Bruce clutched his head. This was getting far out of his control. Sure, he was used to knocking out robbers and crazed muggers, but there hadn't been as many female crooks…he didn't know HOW to handle it when it came to a girl. "Rachel, I didn't WANT to hurt her! I didn't mean to punch her!"

Rachel cupped her hand over his mouth and hissed for him to be quiet. Both looked to the window where, for a split second, Adriana stared at the two of them from inside. Bruce frowned and pulled Rachel's hand away.

"She…she can't see us, can she?" Bruce murmured in a low whisper.

"No, it's a two-way mirror." Rachel stated plainly.

Bruce frowned harder. "Are you sure? How come she just—"

"I don't know, Bruce. I don't know." Rachel sighed, excusing herself, and headed back into the interrogation room.

Bruce folded his arms, staring at the young woman inside. He had seen that bruise for a split second, but even that little glance was enough to make him cringe.

Adriana sniffled, accepting the cup from Rachel, and gulped down the cold water graciously.

"Do you feel better now, Adriana?"

Adriana nodded, casting a glance at the window. "Who's outside?"

Rachel folded her hands. "Another officer. Is that alright if he's there? Or should I ask him to leave?"

Adriana's lips curled into a grin as she brought the cup back to her mouth. "No, that's perfectly fine if _he_ listens."

Rachel frowned. Adriana's eyes turned cold as she stared at the young DA, smirking. Something seemed oddly familiar about those eyes. She remembered someone else with the same empty, chilling, dead eyes. Rachel shook off this thought and readied to continue the interrogation.

* * *

"How does the defendant plead?"

"Not guilty, your honor, by reason of insanity."

The judge raised an eyebrow and looked at the defendant. The young lady's eyes wandered aimlessly. She looked like she didn't even know this was a serial murder trial. She looked like a child, watching things so miniscule as if they were the most important things in the world.

A man sat in a far seat in the back of the room, staring at Adriana as the trial began. He focused intently on her, a notebook in his hands. He wrote quickly and neatly, paying more attention to his notes than to the trial itself.

_Subject B seems nescient to severity of allegations and pays no attention to the trial. Medication from this morning, placed in orange juice, seems to take a few hours to fully take effect. Results: Lack of awareness, tendency to have mind wander, no grasp of reality._

The man paused, sticking the pen behind his ear, peering out behind rimless glasses.

Everything was going perfectly according to plan.


	13. Chapter 13

The trial seemed to drag on for eternity. Photos, documents, and other various pieces of evidence were pulled up and put before the jury. Witnesses, like policemen, family members, et cetera, were brought up to the stand at an alarming rate.

Only one person seemed to be at ease with it all. The one person who should have been the most nervous about everything. Adriana.

Even after being put on the stand, she paid barely any attention to the prosecutor or even her own attorney's questions. The judge had to snap her out of delusions from time to time to answer.

The courtroom was thick with tension and stress, people were anxious for the verdict. Once the jury was let out to deliberate, everyone seemed to give a deep sigh of relief.

Adriana, however, took this chance to give a look around the room. She turned her head ever so slightly, watching as the people behind her began to speak quietly amongst themselves. She could see Cassie leaning against Keith's shoulder, both looking very uncomfortable and distressed. Adriana knew her sister thought she was guilty. Frankly, though, she didn't care.

She continued to scan the crowd and paused, her eyes landing on Bruce Wayne a ways away on the other side of the room. He didn't take notice of her immediately, but once he looked at her, he could quite look away. Adriana gave him a coy smile, the smile a child with a secret gives, and looked away quickly. Bruce stared down at his hands and scowled.

Adriana looked over her other shoulder and spotted an unlikely person in the back row. Doctor Crane. She blinked and frowned, faint, dark images flickering suddenly into memory. Burlap mask, messy, dirty, mouth sewn on lopsidedly, maggots…and…oh those lifeless, cold blue eyes peering at her, sneering, laughing, harsh.

"_We never change our ways, Mrs. De Soto._" Adriana's heart stopped as the glacial voice filled her head. It was as if someone were standing right next to her, breathing in her ear. "Don't worry, dear…once this is all settled, I'll come back for you. You'll be my little specimen again."

The judge, who was taking a bit of a nap, woke from his slumber when a scream pierced the air. The courthouse was in a frenzy as people leapt to their feet, staring at the overturned chair where Adriana sat just seconds before. She was curled on the ground, shaking and uttering nonsensical words.

"Order! Order in the court!" The judge's gavel rang out, but people were crazed, scooting away from the scene as much as possible. The bailiff hurried over to stop Adriana's cries, but she just wailed louder when he pulled her to her feet.

"NO! NO! Don't let him take me again! No, god, no! Get him away! PLEASE!" She screamed, clutching to the guard's arm.

"Keep your client quiet or I will remove her from my courtroom!" The judge barked, pointing his gavel at Adriana.

But she didn't listen to him, or anyone else. She was in a craze. The judge demanded her to leave.

Adriana finally kept quiet once she was dragged through the aisle to the door. She cast another look to find Crane, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Adriana was set down on a bench outside the courtroom, looking around wildly, clutching her shoulders.

"Is he gone?"

"Is who gone?" Adriana's attorney muttered wearily, running his hand through his hair.

Adriana fell silent again. She held her forehead as a horrible pain seared through it.

"I…can I go to the bathroom? My head is killing me." The man nodded and Adriana shuffled to the restroom.

She huddled over the sink, gripping the porcelain for dear life. She was trembling so badly she could barely turn the faucet.

"That was an interesting little display in there."

Adriana peered up at the mirror. Doctor Crane stood in the doorway to one of the bathroom stalls, his lips turned up in a faint smile.

"What are you doing here?" Adriana murmured hoarsely. She was too tired to put up a good argument.

"Talking to you, of course."

Adriana rolled her eyes. "Don't be a smart-allec."

Crane took a few steps forward. "You're playing that insanity plea very well. I'm surprised the nice men in white coats didn't storm in to take you away."

"You're a sick, degenerate little man, Doctor Crane. I'm not going to be your little specimen." She wheeled on him. "This is your fault! You and that stupid mask!"

"Stupid mask? Adriana, that's not very nice. I made it myself." He pulled something from his pocket and held it out at her. It was the scarecrow's mask.

Adriana winced, backing up as he brought it close to her face.

"Not so stupid now, is it? Adriana, I'm trying to help you. If I hadn't talked to Dawes for you, you'd be one of the first in line on death row…At least I gave you a fighting chance."

"That…that was you? You're the one who sent her over to talk to me? She's the one that made everyone think I was crazy!"

"How could you blame her? You thought that your dead husband came back around to help you…that just SCREAMS psychopath."

Adriana turned bright red and frowned. "Did you…did you do that too?" Crane kept quiet, his eyes narrowed over his smug face.

Adriana shook her head and turned back to the sink. "Well, thanks for making everyone think I'm crazy, Doctor Crane. Thanks a lot."

Adriana scooped water in her hands, splashing it in her face. She felt a warm breath on a neck, a breath that still managed to chill her right to the bone.

"You're welcome, Adriana."

Adriana spun around, ready to push the man away, but no one was there. The stalls were empty, the bathroom was completely desolate. Adriana held up her hand, pressing it to her forehead, and closed her eyes.

"Maybe…I _am_ crazy…"

* * *

"Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have your honor."

The verdict had come quickly. That was never a good sign. Adriana stood to her feet, looking at her attorney. But he wasn't looking back. He stared at the jury, his lips pursed.

The jury representative handed an envelope to the judge who nodded. The older woman cleared her throat.

"In the case of the multiple murders, we the jury find the defendant Adriana De Soto guilty of all charges."

Adriana didn't feel at all surprised by the verdict. She looked down at the floor and let out a long breath through her nose.

The judge looked over at the young lady, frowning at her severely.

"Mrs. De Soto," he growled gruffly.

Adriana looked up.

"Your little display earlier helped warrant my decision easily. I believe you are a danger not only to others, but also to yourself. Thus, I hereby sentence you to life incarcerated in Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane."

The bang of the gavel made the girl flinch. Arkham? She had to go to…Arkham? She could hear her sister release a sob as the bailiff came over, puling her arms behind her back, and clapped on the handcuffs. People rose from their seats, milling to get out of the courtroom. Adriana watched Bruce Wayne rise up and start towards the door.

"Bruce Wayne!" She called out to him. The young man craned his neck, bewildered. Adriana gave him a coy smile and snickered. "You're lucky Bruce. Very lucky…" The bailiff gave her a hard shove and she continued walking. She felt slightly numb as the guard brought her past her tearful family and through a door into a long narrow hallway.

"_So…this is it? All that I did…reduced to one verdict. Guilty…insane…_" her smile returned as she hung her head, giving a little giggle. "_but I know something they don't know…I knew it wasn't just a coincidence that I hated Bruce Wayne so much…he's lucky…lucky that I'm not out on the streets or I would be sure to finish what I started._"

Another chill came over her. She looked around everywhere, but there was no sign of anyone. Even so, the creeping voice returned, latching into her thoughts.

"_You shouldn't get ahead of yourself…you don't know as much as you think you do_."

Adriana was led outside to a large white van and flipped her head back, letting the cold wash over her.

"Your little specimen knows more than you think."


	14. Chapter 14

"Master Wayne—"

"I mean, Alfred, you should've seen the way she looked at me. If looks could kill…"

Alfred sighed. "Master Wayne—"

"I knew that punch to the face would have done some damage…but she went nuts Alfred! I knew that girl had a few screws loose…"

Alfred sat in silence, watching Bruce Wayne pace before the hearth of the fireplace. He was obviously speaking to the butler, but would let the man have a word in, so Alfred kept quiet until Bruce calmed down.

"Master Wayne, do not take her threats personally. She is locked away in Arkham now, besides, I thought you said she'd be quite easy to outdo, seeing she is a 'girl'."

Bruce shrugged, a frown creasing his forehead, and said, "Alfred, I know she's not a big threat. Heck, she didn't start freaking out until the end of the hearing. But something about her…she just…she was so…heartless."

"Well, you must remember what she has been through. You have suffered greatly for your losses, but look at how you overcame them. She, however, has taken a different route than you have," Alfred smirked. He lifted a china cup and placed it on a small plate, handing it to Bruce. "You did your job, Master Wayne. How are we to argue with that?"

Bruce slid into his couch cushion, gripping the cup in his hands. What was he thinking…he was Batman, archenemy of criminals throughout Gotham. She was just a lunatic with hollow threats. He had been able to evade death twice at her hands. She was taken out with a punch.

But something still felt wrong. The look she gave him from inside the interrogation room. The smiles and sneers she had when he passed by or looked at her. She knew something…something more than she was letting on. That's what made Bruce most uncomfortable.

What was she hiding?

"More tea, sir?"

"No thanks Alfred. I…uh…I'm gonna head off to patrol the streets now."

"So early?"

"I need to clear my head a bit."

* * *

Weeks passed on, the buzz of the De Soto trial dwindling to odd gossip here and there. People were far more interested in the sightings of Batman, as well as the increase of criminals in Arkham and Blackgate Penitentiary. The city was growing more comfortable to the situations at hand, now that police and other law enforcement agencies got a helping hand with the mysterious Dark Knight. Sure, there was still a great panic in the city once something extreme happened, but even so, people were at ease.

That is, except one.

Adriana was holed away in Arkham, sitting to rot in a dark, cold chamber. The first few days were tolerable. She ate regularly, slept soundly, never once complained. But as the days grew, she realized that Arkham was no walk in the park. She had become disillusioned after weeks of no one bothering to contact her. Friends, family, all seemed to have erased her from their minds.

The lights in her chamber seemed to flicker wildly, sending shadows dancing in a frightening craze along the walls. Eventually all but one burnt out, so the room would either be in total darkness for a few hours, or the random bursts of light would sting at her eyes.

Her fair appearance grew sickly and pale, and she soon deterred from eating anything for days on end. Adriana's spirits were low, and with those horrible feelings came terrifying, heart-stopping dreams. She lost sleep sometimes because of the fear they instilled in her.

She was practically unrecognizable after her stay. Her curled brown locks were limp and hung listlessly around her face. Her moss green eyes were once again empty, always watery with unshed tears. The guards and attendants of the asylum even had the gall to wrap her up in a straightjacket…'for her safety' they told her. But she wasn't safe, not even here.

She could hear the guards murmur as they passed her cell, chuckling and nudging at each other. She always had her back to the door, not bearing the thought of having someone see her in such a state. Thus, the guards would mock or catcall, as if she were just ignoring or playing hard to get. What she was really doing was daydreaming about tearing off the straightjacket and strangling those pigs outside.

Some had even threatened her life. They dared her to retaliate, saying they could do far more damage than she could. But she kept silent. She had learned not to talk back to them from the first day, when one of the guards was making sure she carried nothing life threatening with her. Just to add insult to injury, the guard demanded Adriana remove her wedding ring. She refused adamantly, but the guard served her one good belt across the face and got the jewelry he wanted, with a little prying from her ring-finger.

Now, she never spoke a word. Not one. If they asked a question, all they received was silence. She got in a lot of trouble for her stubbornness, but she felt it was well worth the trouble.

She was, however, always on edge. The faint squeak of a person walking by sent her heart racing. Every time a door was slammed or a loud noise took her by surprised, it was a wonder she didn't die of a heart attack on the spot. She had become so used to isolation that her senses reached alarming heights. She could see amazingly well, although her eyes were quite sensitive to light, her hearing was impeccable (she could even hear guards conversing halfway down the hall through the thick iron door), and smell and taste were even peaked. She was always near the point of being sick because of the awful smell of bleach, sanitizer, and moldy, grimy, garbage-like scents.

She longed to be rid of her restraints. She felt the warm, thick fabric every hour of every day, itchy and humid. The material burned as it rubbed her sensitive skin, she wasn't used to it. The only relief she had was leaning against the grime-covered walls, pressing her cheek against the cool tiles. So far, her life had been so bleak, she felt as if going into a regular prison to face her penalty would have been a lot better than this torture.

It was one of these evenings that she sat on the floor, her back to the cell door, contemplating as she watched a small spider climb up before her face, struggling to grip to the slick tile. Adriana could hear the guard approaching down the corridor and swallowed hard, praying that he walked past her cell. But there was a squeak of rubber against tile outside her cell. He had stopped. The fluorescent light flickered wildly, adding to the fear she already harbored. She heard the massive door clatter and heard footsteps. The guard evidently stopped directly behind her and let out a gruff noise to make his presence known.

"Got somthin' here for ya."

Adriana closed her eyes, silently wishing he'd leave.

"Hey! I'm talkin' to ya! Get up!"

She felt a rough hand entwine around her hair and yank upwards, hard. She barely let out a sound as she was thrown on the hard cot, staring at the wall she was just pulled away from. She cast her eyes to the floor and trembled. She couldn't see the face of the guard, but she knew by his voice exactly who it was. His name was Rick, Rick McHallahan. He was one of the worst guards there. Always hassling her, harassing her any chance he could get. She loathed him above anyone else in the asylum.

She waited patiently for him to begin his tirade of insults, incessant flirting, or all around pig-headed comments. But none came. He shoved something beneath her nose.

"Letter for ya."

Adriana glanced at the envelope. It had only her name written. No addresses whatsoever. The guard released her restraints and took a few steps back, dropping the letter onto her lap.

Adriana hesitated. No one had dared write to her. Not her sister, not her friends; no one cared for her. So who in their right mind was trying to contact her?

"Hey, I got offa my chair to get ya that letter. Read it or I send it to the shredder."

Adriana picked up the letter timidly, not wanting to make the man angrier still, and struggled to open the envelope. She finally grew frustrated and tore off the top of the envelope and tossed it to the floor. She ripped open the letter anxiously, tearing it in several places as she unfolded the creases. Finally the letter lay flat on her lap. There wasn't much writing on it, much to her dismay.

It read:

_Dear Adriana,_

_I hope you are still well enough to read this letter. Arkham is notorious for draining the sanity and sense of any person unlucky enough to enter into its hallowed halls. I'm writing in order to give you a fair heads-up, for I will be stopping by the asylum to check up on you within the next few days. I have important matters to discuss with you._

—_Jonathan Crane_

Adriana stared at the writing. Jonathan Crane. Of all people…Doctor Jonathan Crane is the one who wants to talk to her. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She was thankful, even a little anxious, for any contact from someone other than those inept guards she was forced to see…but she still held a deep resentment for the man that caused her this terrible sentence.

She didn't have time to react when a burly hand grabbed at the note and snatched it from her tremulous fingers. She looked up, her mouth open for a retort, but immediately shut it when Rick gave her a dark look. The guard's eyes scanned the paper and he allowed a small grin to curl his features.

"Doctor Crane comin' back for a visit, eh? I hope he's happy the way we've been takin' care of his prized patient…"

Adriana blinked, frowning slightly. Rick McHallahan grinned wider and crumpled the paper in his fist. "You look surprised, Sweetie. Didn't know that Crane considered you his little 'pet project'? Oh you ain't never seen him around here…he rarely comes around ever since he broke outta here. Can't blame him. I'd hate being in his position too. Owner of Arkham, then an inmate as well."

Adriana drew her eyebrows upwards in a sort of pathetic look. Rick snorted and rolled his eyes. "Don't know what the heck he wants with you. You look more like a drowned rat every day I see ya." And thus began a string of insults that Rick loved to throw at the girl, insults that were sometimes punctuated with masses of cursing and spitting on the ground. Adriana looked down solemnly and waited until the man's loud voice softened into a harsh growl once more. He tossed the wad of paper in his hands at the young lady and snickered.

"Maybe Crane's lonely up in that cabin over yonder. Perhaps he just keeps you here just for kicks until you're sane enough to go with him."

Adriana's eyes narrowed as the man clearly saw her expression and roared with laughter.

"Shame though…having to loose a little gem like you to the likes of him. You know, I'd miss you very much." She felt his finger tracing down her jaw and he gave a little chuckle. Adriana felt a sudden rage engulf her mind. Without thinking, she brought the heel of her palm up, striking the guard in the nose and listening to the loud crack that came from it.

He stumbled back, howling and gripping his injured nose and swore profusely at the young lady. Adriana simply smiled and sat on the cot, rather enjoying his pain as blood trickled through his fingers. Rick's dark eyes narrowed into a glare. He stood, storming towards her, his fingers curled.

"You little…you think this is funny? Huh?" Adriana's smile dropped as the man wrapped his large hands around her small neck easily. She gasped, flailing around for air, but the man only held tighter. He smiled, an animalistic look coming over him, and leaned dangerously close to her. "Look who's winning now…" He sneered, blood dripping down his chin and onto Adriana's straightjacket. She shook her head, things growing blurry, but felt it was no use. Three times she had succumbed to some sort of unconsciousness…Crane's fear gas, Bruce's punch to the head, and now this.

But something happened. Something that made Rick McHallahan drop Adriana back onto her cot. She blinked, looking over at the door, and gave a soft squeak. Doctor Crane stood in the doorway, his arms folded, and a dark look on his face.

"Rick, what are you doing?"

"Nothin. The little slu—" he caught a warning glare from Crane and refrained from this term as he continued, "the _patient_ broke my nose."

"Well, someone around here finally got to it. Too bad it wasn't me." Crane muttered and came between the girl and the guard. "Now, that doesn't mean you can strangle her, does it?"

"No."

"No, _sir._ You're still under my jurisdiction, McHallahan. I may have dragged your butt out of the penitentiary and gave you freedom, but you still are not allowed to touch my patients. Ever."

Adriana saw Rick turn a bright shade of crimson, but he bit his tongue and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Get Adriana a fresh uniform. Now."

Rick hesitated before stamping off, cursing beneath his breath. Crane turned on his heels and smirked at Adriana as if the previous argument had never happened.

"I see you enjoy abusing my guards, Adriana. But that's good, I wouldn't want them taking advantage of your frail state and trying to hurt you."

She was silent, curled onto the cot, watching him intently. Crane brushed away some of her hair and raised an eyebrow. "Although, it seems they already have. I'll have to take that up with them myself. Meanwhile, I wish to see you in my office. Once Rick brings you your uniform, you are to be escorted to the restroom, change into the new outfit, and one of the guards will bring you up. Sound good?"

Adriana looked away, her lips pursed. She still refused to speak, even to Crane.

Jonathan looked towards the doorway as Rick reemerged and held out a rather drab assortment of clothing.

"Ah. Good. Here you are, Adriana. Rick, bring her to the bathroom. And I swear if hear that you stuck your head in there while she's dressing, I **_will_** kill you." Adriana looked up, startled. His usually soft, if not cruel, voice was harsh and serious. Even Rick nodded madly, not daring provoke the wiry young psychiatrist even though he could clearly overpower him with a single blow.

"Then, you will bring her up to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

Crane gave a quick nod to Adriana and glided out the door. Rick cast a horrible glare at the girl as he helped her off the cot and to her feet so she could try to shuffle to the bathroom behind him.

"Lucky Crane got here early…" he seethed, but Adriana was off in her own world. What on earth did Doctor Crane want with her? Did he really own this place? If so…why hadn't he said anything and why would he be so secretive about his plans?


	15. Chapter 15

Adriana was led through the cramped white corridors by Rick Mchallahan. She plucked at the loose-fitting white garment she was given, holding her pants up with one hand while the other brushed dark, greasy strands of her hair out of her face. The guard gave a sneer.

"Sorry your clothes are a bit big. Only ones I could get my hands on."

Adriana sensed he enjoyed watching her hobble around in a uniform twice her size. She gave him a resentful glare and tugged at her pants again.

The guard halted, pointing to a wooden door a few feet away. "There," he snarled, shoving her forward, "that's his office." Rick grinned and snickered like a hyena, ducking away, but not before muttering, "Enjoy…" under his breath.

Adriana waited for his footsteps echoing in the hall to subside before slowly approaching the door. She could hear a faint scratching, as well as a steady ticking, inside the office. She waited, holding her breath as she listened to the soft noises inside, and finally, with the lightest touch, she rapped her knuckles on the door.

The gentle scratching paused, followed by the screech of a chair and loud footsteps. Adriana was expecting the door to open, but even so, as soon as Doctor Crane stood before her, she sucked in her breath just a little.

Doctor Crane's mischievous grin was on his face again as he held open the door. "Come in, come in," he said, motioning to a rather comfy-looking couch sitting against the wall. "Take a seat."

Adriana walked to the couch quickly and sank into its soft warmth gratefully. Jonathan closed the door with a resounding thud and wheeled around. He pulled his chair from behind his desk and set it before Adriana.

The girl looked around his office curiously. Diplomas and awards were framed on the wall, books upon books upon books were piled onto shelves and bookcases, his desk was strewn with papers and various bottles and vials filled with strange colored liquids.

Jonathan sat down, folding his hands and crossing his legs, looking more and more like a typical psychiatrist would…although Adriana still kept a reserved, cautious look at him.

The man observed her through squinted eyes before finally breaking the silence after what seemed like an eternity.

"I see you've adjusted to Arkham well," he murmured, raising an eyebrow at her unrecognizable, if not surprising, new look. Adriana's head drooped as she gave a half-hearted nod.

"I understand. Arkham has a strange way of…converting, shall I say…even the hardest of criminals. Although, I do expect some of the more boorish guards had a little to do with it as well. Am I correct in assuming so?"

Adriana gave another nod, but Crane was dissatisfied with her reply. He frowned, and his tone grew a bit stern.

"I suppose your refusal to speak is due to this abuse you have suffered…I _am_ a psychiatrist," he added, seeing the worried look on her face, "I could see how uncomfortable you were around dear Ricky McHallahan, and the fact that you lashed out at him…only natural to see you high-strung, if not sloppy, nature at work—"

"I didn't lash out!" Adriana blurted hoarsely. Crane gave her another faint smile.

"She speaks? Good. I thought we were going to have to communicate through charades all evening."

Adriana looked down at her hands as Crane picked up a notebook from his desk and tossed it into her lap.

"Go on. I was just finishing some notes. Read if you'd like." He pressed his fingers together beneath his chin. "I believe you'll find some things very interesting."

Adriana hesitated, watching him. A slight frown crossed her features, but with a quivering hand, she opened the cover and slowly began to read the first page. She frowned a little harder, her eyes darting to and fro across the paper. Adriana turned the page and continued to read. This went on for fifteen minutes, though it may have been longer since various words were quite unusual or illegible to read. She looked up, finally, and stared at Crane with a quizzical expression.

"What is this supposed to mean?"

"Oh?" Crane cocked his head, feigning confusion. "You don't know?" He took the book from her and thumbed through the pages.

"Day 1, haughty attitude, cheeky, sarcastic. Guards throw punch, keeping subject silent. Sent to cell 13. Day 15, bedraggled appearance, keeps quiet most of the time, has failed to eat anything for a day. Day 27, loss of sleep, rarely eats, paranoia, hallucinations…Hmm, I guess Arkham took a little more out of you than I expected. This, dear Adriana, is just a piece of the vast observations I have been taking of you over the days, weeks, months under my care."

Adriana looked stunned. "Wh-…what?...y-your care?

"Yes my care. You see, I wanted to come out and be open and honest about this, so I could gain your trust. You see, I have been running Arkham for a while…I have seen many patients come and go, and by go I mean die or transfer, but you…you have truly intrigued me."

"Intrigued?" Adriana crossed her arms, hugging herself nervously. Crane gave a smirk and chuckled.

"Don't worry. This isn't about us, my dear. This is about you. This is about me giving you, perhaps, a second chance at life outside these walls."

Adriana lifted her head and knitted her eyebrows together in puzzlement. "You mean…like…I can leave?"

"Ah, you're getting ahead of me, my dear. Please, let me explain my proposal and I—"

"Listen, Doctor Crane, please…I have to get out of here." Adriana pleaded, her eyes large. "Please, I have to leave! I…I'll do anything. Just get me out of here!"

Crane sighed. "I wish you people wouldn't say 'I'll do anything', because, frankly, there are some things you will not do." He pulled off his glasses to clean them and replaced them on his face. "Why so desperate to leave?"

Adriana looked away and shook her head. "I just need to get out. Please. Let me go home."

Crane chuckled a dark, sinister chuckle and laced his fingers together. "You have no home…" He murmured. "Once you were arrested, your entire house was stripped and a new family lives there. Your family hasn't spoken to you, your friends have abandoned you, what makes you even _think_ there's a soul out there who cares about you? You disgraced them…you disgraced everyone." He paused, grabbing her hand and holding it up in front of her face, the back of it facing her. "You disgraced your precious Carlos." He sneered, motioning to the vacant ring-finger. Adriana whimpered, half a sob escaping her lips.

"Please let me leave…please…"

Crane dropped her hand and yawned, obviously bored by her pleas. "Adriana, I can't just let you leave. That would be irresponsible as a caretaker."

"You're not my caretaker."

"On the contrary. I've been watching over you since you first stepped foot here. Sure, I wasn't around much…but I've been planning this meeting for a while. That's why I was out so long…I was preparing—"

"Watching over me? You call letting those sickening guards cat-call, insult, and otherwise make my life here a living _hell_ 'watching over me'?"

Crane scowled. "No need to put it in such bleak perspective, Mrs. De Soto. And aren't I trying to give you a chance to leave now? Would a bad man like me really let you leave if I wanted those men to keep harassing you? Either you sit down and keep quiet so I may finish, or I could just call Rick back up here to bring you into your cell."

Adriana blinked at Crane's suddenly harsh, hissing tone and shuddered in her seat. Crane continued to glare through his glasses as he spoke.

"I am going to offer you a deal of sorts…you know, you scratch my back, I scratch yours sort of deal.

"I've been watching and studying your endeavors in the world of the criminally insane since you were sent here, seeing how exactly you were caught, how exactly you carried off your ploys, you know. Things like that.

"I know you fed these men their poisons through a pomegranate. Ingenious, clever, original…it got me to thinking."

"_We'd hate to have that…_" Adriana thought as the man continued.

"The way you targeted these victims is by finding ones that would make big headlines. Correct?" He took her look as his answer. "So, here is what I'm offering you. I give you your freedom in return for your services."

Adriana scowled. "Excuse me?"

"You seduced pompous pretty-boys with your charm, your looks, and your ability to gain their trust." Jonathan chuckled. "Who would suspect the grieving widow of a policeman? Therefore, I wish that you help me rather than slaughter the innocents."

"They were no more innocent than you. Two of those men were charged with assault, but both were dropped due to their rich background. The third and fourth were charged with robbery and attempted robbery…again, both were dropped. I targeted those men because they got away with hurting innocent people. Just like the BAT hurt my husband."

"And Bruce Wayne? I have yet to hear any awful news about him."

Adriana drew her eyebrows together. "Oh trust me…He's the worst of them…absolutely."

Crane studied her before continuing. "Right. Well, again, I wish you would assist me in the round-up of 'patients' I need for my studies. Unless…you would like to offer yourself as specimen number one…"

"What happens if I refuse?"

"You get to go back into your cell and, as I said, I get to continue studying you instead." He gave her a sardonic grin, a delighted look in his eye. "Adriana, I know this deal is too tempting to resist. You have become my little Persephone…drawn from a world of light-hearted, carefree joy into the cruel, nauseating, shadowed underworld. Ironic, isn't it, that your choice of vessel to carry your deadly poison was the pomegranate? The very fruit fed to Persephone…the very thing that sealed her fate with Hades?" Adriana shuddered as the gleeful look on Crane's face grew. "I wished to watch over you here at Arkham…but you took to this place like oil to water. I predict you won't last more than a few weeks here if I release you back into the cell. Pathetic…"

"I…" Adriana whispered. "I'm not…"

"You're not? Not pathetic, not weak, not —"

"No!" She blurted, starting to her feet. Her garments flapped around her as she seethed, heaving angrily. "NO! I'm NOT pathetic! I said I would do anything to get out of here…and I mean it. I can't STAND this place. I can't stand you, or the guards, or anything! But if I have a chance to leave here, even if that means helping you…I'll do it."

Crane's frown slowly melted away. "So you'd rather herd up some people to help me than stay here?"

"Yes."

Crane cocked his head. "How do I know I can trust you won't take off once I let you go?"

"Well that's a risk you're going to have to take."

Crane's awkward grin returned. "I enjoy taking risks. Alright…fine. We have a deal."

Adriana gaped as the man returned to his desk. "That…that's it?"

"Mmm…yes. Basically. Although, I do want to be sure I can trust you." He straightened up and grinned at her. Adriana's mind started to turn. That look; wily, sinister, cold…the same look he gave her when he took her to his home and…She let out a faint gasp and covered her mouth. "N-no…please Doctor Crane…please—"

"Adriana…either lower your hands or I will call someone in here…"

"I beg you…I already agreed. Doctor Crane—"

He sighed, pressing a button on the telephone on his desk. "Rick, get up here now."

Adriana yelped and bolted for the door, throwing it open and raced down the hall. She couldn't hear any angry shouts and threw a look over her shoulder struggling to see if Crane was chasing. But he wasn't. She gave a quick smile and laughed, but Adriana's small victory was short lived.

Her oversized outfit was hard to walk, let alone run, in and, when she stepped onto the bottom of one pant leg, she gave a startled cry and stumbled once, twice, three times before crashing to the ground. She threw out her hands to break her fall, but her face still struck the floor. She tasted the copper tang of blood and breathed heavily. She turned her face slowly, staring at a pair of shoes in front of her. She craned her neck up and felt any hope of escape shatter.

"Bloody lip looks good on ya, baby." Rick sneered and rounded her, pulling her to her feet by the back of her shirt. "What's the matter, hun? Doctor Crane got to you?" He yanked her along the path she had just so desperately tried to escape, half dragging, half supporting her lightweight frame. The door was still open, Doctor Crane standing over a chair expectantly. He looked up as Rick pulled her inside.

"Thank you Rick."

"No problem, sir." He threw Adriana forward and shoved her into the rich mahogany chair. "I know how much you'd hate it if your favorite convict got away."

Crane scowled at Rick. "My favorite…no. No I think not. I am surprised though at her brazen escape attempt." He turned to Adriana with a grin. "I underestimated you. Try as you might," he said, watching as Rick handcuffed the girl's hands to the arms of the chair, "you can't run from the dark forever. Scarecrow has his eye on you…" He reached up and swiped Adriana's trembling, bloodied lip with a handkerchief. He tossed a mask at Rick and motioned for him to stand behind the chair. "Make sure she doesn't fall over."

Adriana was horrified as she saw Crane pull his silver case from beside his desk. "Doctor Crane! Please, please don't!"

"Too late. You're far too deep into my little world…you can't get off that easily."

As soon as he finished his words, a familiar white smoke poured out of the case and engulfed Adriana. She couldn't scream. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move. Her eyes were wide open, searching through the haze as she coughed and gagged. The familiar wheezy, scratchy voice broke through the throbbing she could hear from her heart.

"**_Why can't you just accept your fate? Running from me won't help you._**"

Adriana blinked shaking her head. She saw the blurry image of her nightmares appear in front of her. The maggot infested mask, the strange maniacal grin and of course the ice blue eyes peering at her. The Scarecrow drew its head close, squinting at her as she writhed in her seat. The grin on the mask spread and he slowly leaned beside her.

"**_Are you still afraid of me, little Persephone?_**" He whispered in her ear. Adriana could feel the small wriggling grubs fall on her shoulder and creep up her neck. She took short, quick breaths and pursed her lips.

"N-n-no…n-no I'm n-not," She mumbled through her bloody lips and stared straight ahead, not daring to look at the Scarecrow. "I s-said I'd do a-anything…I…I want to l-leave…"

"**_Anything? Is that why you tried to run? Running is a sign of WEAKNESS!_**" He roared in her sensitive ears, making her whine in pain. "**_But you aren't weak, right? No…you aren't. But you need to see now…do you see what will happen if you dare to run? You gave me your word. You said you'd do anything…I asked for your help in gathering guinea pigs…but, if you want to be difficult, I'm sure I could find a…BETTER…way to convince you…_**"

Rick gave a slight laugh, making Adriana look up. His mask was sown to his face, vast gashes and scars slashed across his faced and drool slipping down his chin and onto her head. Adriana swallowed hard and turned back around. The Scarecrow was mere inches from her face, sneering wildly. "I swear…I swear I swear I swear! I won't! I won't leave, god, please just stop! Stop, stop, stop!"

The Scarecrow held out a finger, pressing it to her lips to silence her.

"**_Don't cry, little Persephone…don't you cry. We're done now…We're done._**" He purred, even though is voice was still harsh and cracked. Without a moment's hesitation, he pointed to Rick, murmured for him to get a syringe in his case, and looked at the girl once more. "**_Just a little shot…take away the affects…fear gas._**" He spoke brokenly and his face seemed to fade in and out of focus. But Adriana couldn't have been more relieved in all her life. She felt a sharp pain in on her arm and soon everything went hazy. A warm sensation overtook the chilling effects of the fear gas and she felt like she was floating on a cloud. She was just glad to be out of that room for now.

* * *

Rick yanked off his mask and tossed the syringe in the garbage. "Think it worked?" 

"Of course." Crane snapped, pulling his own mask off. He placed his glasses on his nose, shoving them up slightly. "She's afraid of being called weal. She doesn't want to be feeble. So…I get her weakened until she can be convinced to do as I say." Crane nodded to the couch. "Put her there."

Rick unlocked the handcuffs and picked up the delicate lady with a beaming smile. Crane threw him a cautious look. "Watch the hands, Ricky."

Rick dumped the girl unceremoniously onto the couch and rolled his eyes. "Yeah whatever…sir."

Crane twitched his head to the door and said, "Go get her belongings. Bring them out to my car and put them in the trunk," he tossed Rick the keys, "then get back to your post. I believe Mr. Christoff needs his medication in a few minutes."

Rick begrudgingly took the keys and headed out the door.

Crane turned his attention back to the girl. Her sallow face was smooth and peaceful once again and he could see her eyes darting to and fro beneath her eyelids. He glanced at the mask grasped tightly in his fingers and grimaced. He felt no guilt for his actions, nor did he even care what happened to the girl once she was out of his care in the asylum. But he didn't want to see her die there, emaciated…alone. Crane too knew the effects of loneliness…years of ridicule in school…years of taunts and pranks.

_SCARECROW! SCARECROW! CAW CAW CAW!_

_What's the matter, Jon? Gonna go cry to mommy? Jonny's a crybaby! Jonny's a crybaby!_

_What a little dork! Stop reading those stupid books, scarecrow! Don'tcha know scarecrow's heads are full of straw? Scarecrows don't have brains!_

Crane let out a strangled cry and collapsed into his seat, holding his head. He hated that name…stupid children in elementary school…they hated him. They hated him…because they were scared of him. Yes…their fear…their fear is what drove them to the taunts.

"_Mrs. Dobson! Mrs. Dobson!" A blubbering little girl burst into the semi abandoned classroom and wailed, pointing out the door. "Mrs. Dobson, Jonathan gave me a flower with a bee in it! On purpose!" _

_The teacher looked to the doorway, where a gangly, disheveled little boy stood, tears in his eyes. _

"_Jonathan Crane, why did you give Jenny that flower?"_

_Jonathan heard some girls behind him giggle and frowned. "I…I didn't—"_

"_You are to stay behind in class and write out 100 sentences. Understood?"_

_The small boy nodded as the young girl, Jenny, pushed past him. As she did so, she smiled through her tears and whispered, "I don't want to be your friend, Jonny. You're ugly and stupid. I hate you. **Scarecrow.**"_

Crane remembered that little girl vividly. He had given her a flower as a present, since Valentine's Day was approaching. There was no bee in the flower. She had made it up to get him in trouble. That was his first victim…Jenny. The next day, little Jenny sat at her desk to find it vibrating. As soon as she opened it, she let out a scream, a scream Jonathan relished now that he remembered it. Bees poured out of the desk and swarmed the classroom. But Jonathan Crane, knowing this was going to happen, was surprisingly late to class. As children yelped and hollered, running out of the room, Crane watched them race by and casually turned to follow them.

Jenny's pretty face swelled like a balloon. She wasn't so pretty anymore. Jonathan stared at the mask in his hand and then at Adriana.

"I didn't like seeing little Jenny hurt. But she deserved it. She lied…liars are punished. That, my little Persephone, is why I must do this to you." He stuffed the mask in his coat. "I don't want you hurt…but if you lie to me…you have to know the consequences." He knew she couldn't hear him, and he knew it was safe to talk, but as he waited for her to wake from her drug induced slumber, he couldn't help but remember the pretty little girl he loved, the pretty girl he gave his heart to. The pretty girl that broke it into a million pieces.

--------------------

Note from Author: Hey guys! This is just a little bit of stuff that mightclear up some things. A lot of the lesser characters (Rick McHallahan, Darcee the coffee girl, little Jenny, and other small random names) are really not vital parts of the stories. So, they're not really my characters, nor are they DC characters. They're just...fillers.Adriana/Persephone is my creation...so I do take credit for that. Other than that, you can ignore a lot of the other names.

Again, thanks a lot for the great reviews, kind comments, and all around niceness. I truly appreciate every single word you guys say. So thanks. One chapter left, let's just hope those nice comments keep coming and I don't screw up the last bit too much. :)


	16. Chapter 16

Adriana sat in the passenger's seat of the sleek black convertible belonging to Doctor Crane. She had her head propped against the newly repaired window, blood pumping past her ears with a dull thumping sound. She mumbled something about a blinding headache to Crane, but he didn't reply. He just stared ahead, gripping the steering wheel as he made a tight turn. Finally, he cast a look at her from the corner of his eyes.

"Terribly sorry, Adriana, about the side-effects of the fear serum. I'm still trying to perfect it so if I ever need to use it on you again," he added emphasis on the last word, "it will hopefully have lost those nagging side-effects. I don't think you should suffer from such painful headaches just because of me."

Adriana tightened the grip she had around herself. She had woken up at least an hour or more after passing out in Crane's office from shock. After realizing where she was at that moment, she could spot Crane sitting at the end of the couch in his office chair, yawning as he held a book in one hand, and his notebook in the other. He seemed to be taking small, quick notes on the book and paid no mind to her. She could see he was busy and prayed that he wouldn't notice that she was awake, but as soon as she had shifted a little, just a little, Crane's head snapped up and he gave her his usual, half-hearted smile. He didn't bother explaining what had just happened, nor did he give valid reasons why he gassed her. He simply helped her to her feet, brought her out to his car, and took off with her in his possession. He didn't even give her time to change out of the prison clothes.

Adriana whimpered, broken from her thoughts, as the car made another tight turn. "Doctor Crane…don't you think driving _this_ erratically might attract attention?" Adriana mumbled, blinking furiously against the white-hot pain in her head.

"It won't," Crane stated plainly. "The police have far too much to worry about than handing out tickets to little lawbreakers like me."

Adriana turned, her empty eyes staring out the window. "_Little_ lawbreaker? I thought the whole city was out looking for you. You're more than a little lawbreaker to them."

"Am I?" Adriana could hear the chill in his voice, the nightmarish grating it made when his tone was angry. Crane glanced at her once again. "What am I to the people of Gotham then, Adriana? What am I to you?"

Adriana knew this was a loaded question. If she messed up her answer, she could get another visit from the "Scarecrow".

"I…I know you were the one sneaking chemicals into the water supply…"

"Good. So does half the city. Now, go on."

Adriana shuddered. "I know you have been experimenting with that gas stuff on me…and probably on a lot of the Arkham inmates…right?"

Crane chuckled dryly. "You _are_ a smart one, aren't you? I'm glad at least one of the experiments has their wits about them."

Adriana watched him in interest. "I still don't understand…how can you keep in hiding? I…I mean…don't the guards…" Adriana trailed off as Crane's crystal eyes shone with a secretive sparkle. She scrunched farther away from him, her whole body now wedged against the door. "How did you keep them quiet?"

"Simple," said Crane as the car rolled to a stop at the traffic light. "It's a matter of finances. My guards, assistants, workers….they're all very desperate for money nowadays. A little payoff and its done. No questions, no leaks to the public. They keep the fact that I'm running the show again quiet. It's amazing the effects little green pieces of paper have on the human mind."

Adriana couldn't look up at him. "So…you pay off the guards to keep your whereabouts quiet? What….what if someone needed to meet the person that runs Arkham?"

Crane turned his head, watching her curiously. "You _are_ inquisitive, aren't you?" He sneered and pressed the gas as the light turned green. "I have that covered too. You see, a man named Carl Canton took over Arkham while I was missing. He cared for the patients, did all the paperwork, you know…that sort of thing. Well…after –convincing– him to help me, I was free to run Arkham as I pleased while he handled the press junket. He pays for everything, that way I keep my name off of the bills. Wouldn't want to get caught _now_, would I?"

Adriana stared out the window and sighed. He had every base covered. He manipulated, tortured, poisoned, bribed, and otherwise cheated his way to the top.

Crane could see her worried expression and licked his lips, his tone low and eerie.

"I know you do not approve of my methods, Adriana, but I only do it so people like you and I don't need to suffer from tarnished pasts."

Tarnished pasts? Adriana looked cautiously over her shoulder as Crane frowned, staring straight ahead and gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles grew white.

"I need to attend to my own business; I need to finish what I started, regardless of what happens to the specimens along the way. Once I completely perfect my experiments…" Crane trailed off. He seemed to be lost in his fantasy. Adriana tore her glance away from him and looked back out the window.

"Where are we going?" She changed the subject as Crane weaved between cars.

"Hm? Oh, yes…I almost forgot to tell you. I'm bringing you to your home."

"What!" Adriana screeched suddenly, causing Crane to swerve into the other lane. Her loud tone had surprised him, since she had been so quiet most of the time.

"Holy!" Crane shouted as an oncoming car veered away to avoid collision, honking furiously. Crane shot a scathing look at Adriana. "Are you trying to kill us!"

"You can't bring me home! You told me that there is someone else living there. Doctor Crane, please, please! I can't go back! I can't!"

"Calm down, calm down! I'm not taking you back to your precious little loft!" Crane could see the panicked young woman clutching the dashboard, breathing quickly as she stared at him with desperate, pleading eyes.

"Are…are you going to lock me up in that shack you live in?"

"Although I loved that place," Crane hissed spitefully, sarcasm hinted in his voice, "I already moved back to a place connected to Arkham. The rats gnawing at my sheets helped convince me it was time for a move."

He turned another corner and the car began to slow to a stop. "No, I'm bringing you to a new apartment. Just for you."

Adriana stared at him, her jaw going slack. "N-new apartment?" Crane's reply was a door slamming as he stretched around rounded the front of the car. He held open Adriana's door and his ghostly smile returned, as well as the hellish yet delighted look in his eye, as he helped the pallid woman to her feet.

"My Persephone…you know that I promised to help."

A familiar chill spread through Adriana's body as she looked at him. She quickly looked away and stared at the surrounding street. The neighborhood wasn't bad at all. The overcast from the sky seemed to darken it severely, but other than that, everything looked quite fine. She turned her head and saw she was standing before a towering brick building, the russet color contrasting with the dark gray or black buildings around it.

"I thought the outskirts of Gotham would be an easy place to start your new life. Not much police activity, barely any people around…" Crane hooked his arm with hers as they began walking, "If you ever need food or assistance, you can call me."

Adriana avoided his eyes as he opened the glass door and started up the stairs within the building. She couldn't bear to think of calling _him_ for help. It would be like calling a killer to the scene of his crime to help the case. He had come so close to succeeding in severing her concepts of dream and reality in two that she still wasn't sure if this whole scenario was actually happening. Their footsteps seemed to thump in odd rhythms, sounding hollow and loud at the same time. For a minute, she felt numb and dizzy. Her breathing grew quick once again, an overwhelming panic starting to suffocate her. She threw a look over her shoulders and swallowed back a dry lump in her throat. The stairs seemed to stretch and warp before her very eyes; They wavered beneath her feet, melting, breaking, rotting. Adriana felt her foot give way to the wobbly stairs and she sucked in her breath, throwing her arms back and ready to catch herself when she fell, but something stopped her.

Her eyes darted forward, everything coming back into perspective. Doctor Crane was grabbing her wrist, holding her in place firmly. He didn't look concerned, nor was he smiling. He looked as if he had expected her reaction and yanked Adriana to an upright position.

"Just a few more steps, Adriana." He murmured as she shuddered in his grip, staring into his ice blue eyes. "Good thing I found an apartment on the second floor…not too high, easy to get around…Are you alright?" She nodded hesitantly and he proceeded to guide her down a hall to the left.

The hallway was decorated with an old, Romantic-era flair. The carpet beneath their feet was a deep, blood-red color with a flowered pattern dotting several spots.

The walls were paneled halfway up, with rich mahogany while the rest of the wall was covered by golden wallpaper. Portraits and paintings hung on the wall while a small table at the far held a large bouquet of flowers in an ornate vase. The whole hall was lit up by a dim lamp on the ceiling, embellished with bronze decorations.

Adriana, busy taking in her surroundings, nearly collided with Crane as he stopped at one of the dark wooden doors. The gilded numbers '13' stood out sharply, shimmering in the hall's dim lamp-light. Crane jammed the key into the lock and turned the knob.

"It's a cozy little place. I know you will enjoy it…" He held open the door, switched on a light, and ushered Adriana inside. "Well? How does it look?"

Adriana was silent as she looked around. Although much smaller, the apartment held an uncanny resemblance to her former home. The walls were dark with black cloth draped on them, and the furniture was sleek and white, clean, fitting perfectly in the shadowy room despite the obvious conflicting colors. Various clear glass vases holding white lilies were distributed throughout the room as well as beautiful photographs of Gotham in black and white. Adriana glanced at Crane, who looked quite pleased with himself. "No place like home, huh?"

"How…how did you do all this? On such short notice?" Adriana whispered, running a spidery white hand across the surface of a chair.

Crane folded his arms, speaking to her indirectly as he looked around. "I told you I have been planning for a while. Now, there's a speaker here in the wall. When someone comes, they call up here and you have to buzz them in. Now listen to me," Crane's voice dropped back to a soft tone, "from this point on, unless I call or send someone over, you are **not** to open the door to anyone."

"Why not?"

Crane cocked his head. "Why? I won't have the life of a patient jeopardized when the pizza man recognizes you as a murderer and you get arrested…again. I bailed you once out of death row. I have no idea if I can do that again."

Adriana walked around him and slumped into a soft armchair at his side. She stared at her hands, one of them shaking while the other tried to steady it.

"So…I can't leave, I can't have friends, I…I have only _your_ visits to look forward to," (at this, Crane gave a slight grin), "and you want me to enjoy myself here?"

Crane shrugged. "Yes, I suppose."

Adriana looked away, staring at a large bowl of reddish fruit on the coffee table. She plucked one out and frowned, inspecting it between her hands. "Pomegranates?" she blinked, casting a glance at Crane as he wandered towards the bedroom. "Cute."

"_I_ thought so." Crane smirked, observing the room from the doorway. "As a reminder, though I doubt you will make the same mistake twice, please do not tack vital information, photos, and other incriminating evidence to the wall, please."

Adriana dropped the fruit back into the bowl.

I should get going…" Crane glanced at his watch and paced over the floor, standing in front of Adriana. "You'll promise to take care of yourself, won't you?"

She gave a quick nod.

"Good. I'll check back tomorrow, make sure everything is fine." Crane headed back to the door, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Good evening, Mrs. De Soto. Do rest up; I wish to invite you for breakfast tomorrow morning, 8 A.M. sharp. I'll have someone fetch you at 7:30."

Adriana gave a wary expression and wrung her hands nervously. Crane's face was expressionless, but his voice amused as he said, "Don't worry, Mrs. De Soto. There will be nothing in your food. I just want to be sure you get a good start in the morning…most important meal of the day, you know." He turned the knob and was not more than two feet out the door when he heard Adriana murmur softly, "Thank you Doctor Crane…for all this."

He paused, straightening up to see if she said anything else. But she didn't.

Jonathan closed the door behind him with barely a sound and walked briskly down the stairwell. He wasn't one for long goodbyes. She had her home and everything she needs, there was no reason to continue treading her doorstep.

But even as he walked out into the blistering cold Gotham day, he couldn't help but cast a look at the darkened window on the second floor, pursing his lips in a hesitant, unsure way. Adriana was now out of his ward, out of reach of his care. He may not have had emotional attachment to her as Jonathan Crane. But as her caretaker, he knew if something happened out here, there may be trouble for himself. Even so, he had a hard time convincing himself that was the only reason he'd regret releasing her. His car roared to life, tearing off down the street as the apartment disappeared from the view of the young psychiatrist.

* * *

Adriana rubbed her arms as a chill crept through the room. She rose from her seat, meandering past the bathroom and into the bedroom. Everything like home, save for the compact space of the rooms. Cane did his homework obviously. Adriana sat on the edge of the bed, scanning the room sleepily as the sky dimmed outside her window. She glanced at her nightstand and frowned, curiosity coming over her. Something rectangular was propped up, a picture frame by what she could tell. She picked up the frame from the nightstand and drew it close to her face.

Her eyes grew wide and a constricted noise came from her throat as she ran a thumb down the portrait. A serious-looking Carlos, donned in police apparel, stared back at her. She opened and closed her mouth, bringing her hand over it, and brought her eyebrows together over the bridge of her nose. Adriana wondered how on earth Crane could have gotten his hands on this photograph, but she was happy…thankful he did.

As she went to set the picture back down, something soft brushed against her ankle as it hung off the bed. Adriana looked down.

Nothing.

With a shrug, Adriana placed the portrait back down, turning it towards the bed, and fell back on her pillow, exhausted. She closed her eyes, listening to the faint noises outside. She could hear the train a few blocks away, clattering and shaking as it flew by, as well as barking dogs, the squeal of tires peeling out, cars backfiring…She'd have to get used to the noise.

After a few minutes of a rare, peaceful silence, Adriana strained her ears, listening as something stirred beside her. Probably her imagination. After what happened on the staircase, she didn't care whether something was moving or not.

But suddenly, without warning, she felt a sharp pressure on her chest and her eyes flew open. Peering back at her were two crystalline blue orbs, glinting from the streetlight outside. Adriana yelped, throwing her hand back and flipping on the little lamp by her bed, flooding the room with much needed light.

She bolted upright, watching something black and furry tumble into her lap. The thing rolled onto its back, pawing at the air with its mouth open. Adriana's body heaved as she struggled to regain her normal breathing. She stared at the creature and held her hand against her forehead.

"Just…just a stupid cat."

The cat's ears perked up and it purred.

"I've got to stop being so jumpy. I'm safe…safer than in Arkham. Just…those eyes…" Adriana stared at the blue-eyed cat as it mewed at her. The shaking young woman looked at the window, but it was shut tight. Maybe the thing came in through the door when Doctor Crane left.

She picked up the miniature beast and held it up in the air. "Alright little guy…you got a name? A house maybe? I can get Doctor Crane or a friend of his to get you home…"

She could feel the cat rumbling with purrs as she searched his neck. A crude brown leather collar, worn in several places, was wrapped around his neck, along with a blank golden tag.

"Hm. Guess not. Hey, what do you have there?" Adriana frowned, reaching for a small, folded paper that was tied onto the collar. Her name was written neatly on the front in a familiar font.

She flipped open the card, allowing the cat to swat at her stringy hair, and sighed. "Let's see what's so important that Doctor Crane uses carrier cats to deliver it."

_I see you have already had the pleasure of meeting your new pet, courtesy of myself. I know he's not as conversational as human company, but at least you need not feel so lonely on a daily basis. Enjoy your new friend._

—_Jonathan Crane_

Adriana looked up, the cat staring back at her. He licked his lips, making Adriana smile. "New apartment, a new pet…" She looked around, giving a soft sigh. "A new life."

Adriana snapped the card off of the cat's collar and read it over once more. "At least he's trying to be nice…even after he gassed me…huh little guy?" She scratched the cat between the ears, smiling as the cat's ears swiveled back. "Guess he isn't all _that_ bad." Adriana hugged the animal close to her, smothering her face in its warm, soft fur. He purred again, a gentle sound that soothed her. She turned off the lamp and closed her eyes again, hoping that sleep would come soon. She needed as much rest as she could get to muster the courage to see Doctor Crane tomorrow.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, I guess this story draws to a close. Thank you guys for reading and reviewing my fic, I'm thrilled you guys enjoyed it. Now, this may not be the ending to Adriana and Crane ficness. No. I think I may start up another part to the story soon...hopefully I can have more Crane in it, and Batman too (I guess. If I must) just because I want to write more banter betweenhim and Alfred.**

**Again, thanks for the kind reviews. It's what kept these chapters a'comin!**


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